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CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL 



OF 



POPULAR LITERATURE SCIENCE AND ART 






■j 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL 



OF 



POPULAR LITERATURE SCIENCE AND ARTS 



C07SDUCTED CY 



WILLIAM AND ROBERT CHAMBERS 



EDITORS or 'cUAMBEfts'S EDUCATIONAL COUBSE,* ^INFORMATION TOR TIIE rEOPLE,* &c. 



VOLUME XV 



No*. 3CC-391. JANUARY-JUNE 1861. 




< 

\0 ' ' • — 






-, / 



LONDON 

W. & R. CHAMBERS 47 PATERNOSTER ROW 

AND HIGH STREET EDINBURGH 



UDCCCLXI 



li 



Edinburgh : 
rrinted by W. and K. ChAiuben. 



INDEX 



FAMILIAR SKETCHES AND ESSAYS. 

Baby, Nix>, - . - - 35l 
Bachelor** Prot««t, a, - 385 
Broken oq the Wheel, - - 33 
Buy Pretty Polly I - - - 161 
Can't and Can, or Dave and Do- 
only meant for Ladleii, - - 411 
CamivaU the Britiah, - - 406 
Cenans-taker, a Tolnnteer, - 289 
DenUtus the Tyrant, - - 337 
Door-steps, - - - - 241 
Douane, a Day with the, - 198 

Errata, 15 

File, Poking the, - - - 113 

Going Abroad, ... - 369 

Indian Grass Widowers, > - 145 

Inquisition, the Modem, - - 209 

London Street-noises, - - 315 
3i^ior Truefitt on Logic, Some 

Ideas of, - - - - 97 

Men and Women, Little, - - 133 

Nix's Baby, - - - - 321 

Nobody's >fcw8paper8, - - 124 

Offer of Marriage, an, - - 353 

OnGnard, 75 

Ovulation, .... 54 
Passengers, Second-class, > - 177 
Poking the Fire, - - - 113 
Polly! Buy Pretty, - - - 161 
Protest, a Bachelor's, - 385 
Railway Chances, - - - 109 
Remarka by a Person of No Conse- 
quence, Some, ... 225 
Seeond-class Passengers, 177 
Street-noises. London, - - 315 
Traefitt on Logic, Some Ideaa of 

M;«or, 97 

IVrant, Dentatus the, - - 337 
^Yery Cheap, Ladies and Gentle- 
men!' 29 

Village Wonders, the, > - 83 

Volunteer Census-taker, a, - 289 
Welsh Yams. In Two Hanka, 360, 874 

Wheel, Broken on the, - 33 

Widowera, Indian Graisa, - 145 

Women, little Men and, - - 133 



POETRY. 

Page 

Bitterness, 176 

Black bird, the, ... 384 

Bombay Sunset, a, - - - 256 

Cherry-time, the, - - - 144 
Coming Home, - - - -416 

Conjugal Dispute, a, - - 334 
Dead Love, - - . .80 

Duty, 128 

Little Florence, - ... 96 

Missel-thrush in February, the, 1 1 2 

Money-spinner Spider, the, . 192 

Our Village at Daybreak, - 288 

Quince, 320 

Rulway Lyric, a, - • . 16 

Rain, the, 304 

Sailor's Wife's Song, a, - . 240 

Sonnet, 160 

Spring, 352 

, Inscription for a, - . 32 

Violet, the, - ... 272 

* What the Hand findeth to do,' 224 
Wife, Answer to a Student^ 

Sketch of a, ... 208 

Wild-swan, the, - - - - 283 

Wintcr^timc, . - - - 48 

Work, 368 

Years, the Two, . . . <>4 



POPULAR SCIENCE. 



73 



135 

397 



Bee-world, the, . - - - 
Electric Clocks and Ship Chro- 
nometers, . . . - 
Light-houses and Beacons, 
Month, the : Science and Arts — 

62, 126, 207, 270, 335, 414 
Syrian Silk and Silk-roeUng, - 26 
Telegraphs, Undersea, - - 228 



TALES AND OTHER NARRATIVES. 

Page 

Adventure, an Ice-boat, . - 239 
Ante-nuptial Lie, the, - - 291 
Baby, Nix's, . - - . 321 
Bachelor, the Married, - - 343 
Backwoods' Trayel, an Incident ot, 316 
Can't and Can, or Dare and Do — 

only meant for Ladies, - - 411 
Family Scapegrace, Ilie. By 
James Payn — 

Prefatory, - . . 1 

I. A Family Group, - 1 

II. Fatherless, ... 3 

III. Uncle Ingram, . . 21 

IV. A Commercial Academy, 24 
V. A Cool Reception, - 42 

VI. Falsely Accused, - 44 

VII. Darkcndim Street, - 50 
VIII. Golden Square, - 52 

IS. The Last Day at Home, 68 
X. Dick Cuts the Painter, . 70 
XI. The Perils of Eave8dropping,90 
XII. Miss Backboard's Young 

Ladies, . - > 92 

XIII. Monsieur de Crespigny, 98 

XIV. The Mystery of Mc Jonea, 100 

XV. A Model to be Avoided, 116 

XVI. In Trouble, - - .118 

XVII. The Witnesses, . . 136 

XVIII. CiKxmI Samaritans, . 139 

XIX. The Excommunication, 149 

XX. Among Friends, . .151 

XXI. Out of Town, - - 167 

XXII. A I^iecture upon Natural 

History, - - - 169 

xxiiT. The Lion-tamer, - 182 

XXIV. Mr and Mrs Treidgold, - 185 

XXV. A Lodging with a Lionets, 200 

XXVI. A Man of Business and 

Pleasure, . - - 202 

XXVII. Intrigues at the Cottage, 216 

XXVIII. The Pitcher is Broken at 

Last, . - - 220 
XXIX. A Dangerous Proposition, 229 

XXX. Before the Queen, - 232 

XXXI. Ph>feaaional, - • 245 



I 



VI 



INDEX. 



Page 
Family Scapejjracc, The. By 
James Payn — 

xxxii. Reconciled, - - - 247 
XXXIII. The Begiuning of a 

Honeymoon, - - 26*2 
XXXIV. The Mouse atRtsts the 

Lion-(huntcr), - - 265 
XXXV. Married and Settled, 267 
Garibaldi, On the Rock with, - 401 
Highway, Snow-bound ou the 

KtngX - - - - 167 
loe-boat Adventure, an, - - 239 
Incident of Backwoods* Travel, 

an, 316 

Lawyer and the Love-letters, 

the, 310 

Lie, the Ante-nuptial, - - 291 
Locked In! .... 390 
Lodger, the Queer, ... 284 

Lost! 175 

Love among the Lilies, - • 10 
Maria van Oosterwyck — Love 

among the Lilies, - - - 10 
Married Bachelor, the, - - 243 
Night in the Woods, a, - - 31 
Nix's Baby, .... .321 
Offer of Marrisge, an, - - 353 
Queer Lodger, the, - - - 284 
Sohamyl in Captivity, > > 86 
Snow.bound on the King's High- 
way, 157 

Tomklns Married, ... 377 
ViUago Wonders, the, - - 83 



NOTICES OF BOOKS. 

Aylmer's Cruise in the Pacific, - 60 
Barrcra's Gems and Jewels, - «94 
Brown's Horcc SubsfcivcBt - - 276 
Browne's My Share of the Worid, 281 
Buckle's History of Civilisatiou in 

Enghiud, - - - - 404 
Burton's Autobiography of Dr 

Alexander Carlyhs, . - - 46 
Coleridge's Public School PMuca- 

tion, 8 

Du Chaillu's Explorations and 
Adventures iu Equatorinl 

Africa, 394 

Gonger's Personal Narrative of 
Two Years' Imprisonment in 
Burmah, - - - - 105 

Head's Hone and his Rider. > 19 

Hodges's Construction of the 

Victoria Bridge, - - - 114 
Hull's Coal-fields of Great Britain, 164 
Jeaffreson's Book about Doctors, 78 
King's Antique Gems, . - 346 
Lament's Seasons with the Sea- 
horses, 211 

Lockhart's Chinese at Home, 362 
Marryat's Residence in JntUnd, 
the Danish Isles, and Copen- 

hagen, 141 

Meredith's Songs of Servia, . 332 
Praed,- the Poetical Works of 

Winthrop Mackworth, . .187 
Ramsay's Reminiscences of Scot- 
tish Life and Cliaraetcr, Second 
Series, ----- 325 
Scoresby, the Life of William, 1 47 
Tyior's Anahuao: or Mexico and 
the Mexicans, Ancient and 

Modem, 380 

Vacation Tourists and Notes of 

Travel in 1860, - - - 297 
Wyntcr's Curiosities of Civilisa. 
tion, 27 



MISCELLANEOUS ARTICLES OF 
INSTRUCTION AND ENTERTAIN- 
MENT. 

Pave 
About Doctors, - - - - 78 
Abroad, Going, - - . 369 
Acyutnnt, the Calcuttn, . . 40 
Adventure, an Ice-boat, - 239 

Aldemev, ----- 205 
All the ^Vorld Over, - - 297 
Antique Gems, .... 346 
Arctic Winter Two Hundred 

Years ago, an, - - 36, 56 
Aristocracy of Russia, the, - 387 
Armorial Bearinn, - • 273 
Armoury, the Old, - - - 129 
Arts and Science— 

62, 126, 207, 270,385, 414 
Australia, Central, . . - 242 
Autobiography of Dr Alexander 

Carlyle, 46 

Babv, Nix's, .... 321 
Bachelor's Protest, a, - - 385 
Backwoods' Travel, an Incident of, 316 
Bank, the Pauper's, ... .^9 
Beacons and Llght-houses, - 397 
Bearings, Armorial, ... 273 
Bee-world, the, - . . 73 
Bclvidcre House v. Uio Public 

Schools, - - - - 8 
Bost, M. J.— Favoured Idiots, 302 
Bridge, the Victoria, . > 114 
Broken on the Wheel, > - 33 
Browne, Frances, - - - 281 
Buckle, Mr, on Spain and Scot- 
land, 404 

Burmah, Imprisoned in,. - 105 
Buy Pretty Polly ! - . .161 
Calces, More Plums from the Land 

of, 325 

Calcutta Adjutant, the, • 40 

Canal-boat, the Fast, - > 88 
Cannibals and Gorillas, - Zi)-i 

Can't and Can, or Dare and Do — 

only meant for Ladies, - - 41 1 
Canton, Two Days at, - - 350 
Captivity, Schamyl in, > > 86 
Carlyle, Autobiography of Dr 

Alexander, - - - . 46 

Carnival, the British, . - 406 
Carolina, South, ... 65 
Census-taker, a Volunteer, . 289 
Central Australia, - - 242 

Chicago— A City Elevated, - 49 
Chinese at Home, the, - 362 

Commerce, . - - 4 

City Elevated, a, - - - 49 

Civilisation, the Curiosities of, 27 
Clocks and Ship Chronometers, 

Electric, - - - - 135 
Coal-fields of Great Britain, the, 1 64 
Coal-pit Cabin, in the, • * 154 

Cold, 81 

Consequence, Some Remarks by 

a Person of No, ... 
Constantino's Legacy, - 234, 253 
Co-operation, ... - 96 
Co-ops in Lancashire, the, . 409 
Cotton Countries, - > * 172 
Day with the Douane, a, > 198 
Dentatus the Tyrant, - - 337 
Derby— The British Carnival, 406 
DevirsDuRt, - • - - 103 
Diary, a Middy's, ... 60 

Dr Scoresby, - - . - I47 
Doctors, about, . - . 78 
Door-steps, - - - - 241 
Easels, RivaU . - . 327 

Electric Clocks and Ship Chro- 
nometers, . . - - 135 
English l^rivateers. Old, - - 408 
Errata, ... - - 15 

Favoured Idiots, - - - 302 
Fire, Poking the, - - - 113 
Fire-enginea, Steam-impelled, - 128 



Frances Browne, . - . 
French Prisoners — On Parole, 
Titles, 



Pa'^'e 
281 
120 
305 
Frontier, the Military, - - 339 
Garibaldi, On the Rock with, 401 
Gems and Jewels, - • - 94 

^, Antique, - - - 346 

Giving Out Money, - - S83 



00 R 



Going Abroad, - - . - 369 
Goodrich Armoury — The Old 

Armoury, - - - - 129 

Gorillas and Cannibals, - - 394 
Gougcr, Mr — Imprisoned in Bur- 

mah, . . - - - 105 

Grass Widowers, Indian, > 145 

Great Britain, the Coal-fields of, 164 

Guano Islands, the, - - - 17 

Guard, on, - - - - 75 

Hearth, the, - - - - 371 
Hexham — ^An Unknown Psge in 

History, - - - - 313 

Higln\-ay, Snow-bound on the 

King's, 157 

Holy Week in Vienna, - - 222 

Home, the Ciiinese at, - • 362 
Hoppner and Lawrence— Rival 

Easels, 327 

Horse, Sir Francis on tlie, - 19 

Horses, Pcrfonning, - - - 300 

How the Money Wears, . 1 80 

Hugh Peters, - . - - 250 

Ice-boat Adventure, an, - 229 

Idiots, Favoured, ... 302 

Imprisoned in Burmah, - 105 

Incident of Backwoods' Travel, an, 316 

Indian Grass Widowers, - - 145 

Inquisition, the Modem, - 209 

Iron Crown,' • Luke's, - - 261 

Islands, the Guano, - - 17 

Isle of Wight— llie Undercliff, ^99 
James, Captain — An Arctic Winter 

Two Hundred Years ago, - 36, 56 

Jewels and (i^rms, - - - 94 

Kissing— Osculation, . - 54 

Lancashire, the Co-ops in, - 409 

Laudsccr of Literature, tlie, > 276 
Lawrenco and Hoppner — Rival 

Easels. - . - - - 327 
Legacy, Constantine's, - 234, 251$ 

Life-boats, - - - - Oi) 

Light-houses and Beacons, - W 

little Men and Women, - - 1 33 

Livingstone, Last News from Dr, ]i)^ 

London Street-noises, - - 315 

* Luke's Iron Crown,' - - 261 
Major Tmefitt on Ix>gic, Some 

Ideas of, - . - - 07 

Marriage, an Offer of, - . .''*53 

Men and Women, Little, - - 133 

Mexicans, Modem, • • 3H0 

Middy's Diary, a, - - - tO 

Military Frontier, the, - - 'M19 

Modem Inc^uisition, tlie, - - '209 

Money, Giving Out, - - 383 

Wears, how the, - - 180 

Month, the : Science and Arts— 

62. 126, 207, 270, 3;«, 414 
More Plums from the Land of 

Cakes, 325 

Mungo— Devil's Dust, . - 103 

Newspapers, Nobody's, - - 124 

Nix's Baby, .... 321 

Norman Cross— On Parole, - 120 
Occasional Notes — 

Cooperation, - - - 96 

Life-boats, . - - - .06 

Signing Recommendations, - 416 

Street Railways, - - 416 

Old Armoury, the, • - - 1*29 

Old English Privateers, - - 408 

On GKuurd, • - - - 75 

— Parole, - - . . 120 
Oosterwyck, Mtuia van - Love 

among the Lilies, - - 10 



INDEX. 



vu 



Ptt|0 

OMoIation, - - - - 54 

PtaseDgen, Second-class, - 177 

Patronjrmicfl, .... 33O 

Fauper*s Bank, the, - - 309 

Performing Hones, . - > 300 

Peters, Hugh, - - - 250 
Plains from the Land of Cakca, 

More, 325 

Poking the Fire, - - • 113 

Polly I BayPtetty, - - 161 

Pond-iishing, - - . 348 

Portland Prison, - - - 1.90 

Poultry Show, a, - - - 13 

Praed, Winthrop Maokworth, - 187 

Privateers, Old English, - - 408 

Protert, a BaohelorX - - 385 
Publio Schools v. Belvidere House, 

the, 8 

Racking, - - - - 270 

Railway Chances, ... 109 

, the Roundabout, - 364 

Railways. Street, - • - 416 

Recommendations, Signing, - 416 

Rival Easels, - - • - 327 

Rock with Garibaldi, On the, 401 

Rosda, Serfdom in, - - 278 

, the Aristooracy oty - 387 

Schamylin Captivity, - - 86 
Science and Arts — 

62, 126, 207, 270, 335, 414 

ScoresbyfDr, - - • - 147 

Scotch Tally-trade, the, - 214 
Scotland and Spain, Mr Buckle on, 404 



Page 

Scottish Horo in a New Liglit, a, 124 

Second-class Passengers, - - 177 

Serfdom in Russia, - - 278 

Servia, the Songs of, - - - 332 
Ship Chronometers, Electric 

Clocks, 135 

Shoddy— Devil's Dust, - - 103 
Show, a Poultry, - - - 13 
Signing Reconmiendations, - 416 
Silk and Silk-reeling, Syrian, - 26 
Silver-smuggling, ... 257 
Sir Francis on the Horse, - - IJ) 
Snow-bound on the King's High- 
way, 157 

Soldiers' Wives, ... 41 
Some Remarks by a Person of No 

Consequence, - - . - 225 

South Carolina, ... 65 
Spain and Scotland, Mr Buckle on, 404 

Spitzbergen, About, - - 211 

Steam-impelled Fire-engines, - 128 

Street-noises, London, - - 315 

Street Railways, - - 416 

Swan, the, ... - 366 

Tally-trade, the Scotch, - - 214 

Tcfr--Chinese Commerce, - 4 

Teeth, Ill 

Telegraphs, Undersea, - 228 

Titles, French, .... 305 

Tourist-ground, Unknown, - 141 
Tnieiitt on Logic, Some Ideas of 

Miyor, 97 

Two Days at Canton, - - 350 



Bags 
Tyrant, Dcntatus, the, - - 837 
Undercliff. the, - - - 399 
Undersea Telegraphs, - - 228 
Unknown Page in History, an, 313 
Vcntnor— The Undercliff, - - 399 
' Very Clieap, Ladies and Gentle- 
men!' 29 

Victoria Bridge, the, - - 114 
Vienna, Holy Week in, - - 222 
Volunteer CensuR-takcr, a, - 289 
Wallace — A Scottish Hero in a 

New Light, - - - - 124 
Weapons of War, - - - 353 
Welsli Yams. In Two Hanks, 360, 374 



Wheel, Broken on the, 
Widowers, Indian GrasM, 
Winthrop Maokworth I*racd, 
Wives, Soldiers', - 
Women, Little Men and, - 
Woods, a Night in the, - 
World Over, All the, - 



33 
145 
187 

41 
133 

81 
297 



ANECDOTES AND PARAGRAPHS. 

Ancients, a Lesson from the, - 192 

Coal-oil Parish Lamps, - - 288 

Education, Effects of, - - 112 

Interests, Real and Supposed, 160 

Lost Men, 64 



ii 







S titntt aiib %xts. 



CONDUCTED BY WILLIAM AND ROBERT CHAMBERS. 



No. 366. 



SATURDAY, JANUARY 5, 1861. 



Price \^d. 



THE FAMILY SCAPEGRACE. 

BYJAMESPAYN. 

AUTHOR OP *THB BATXVAN HOVSIHOLD.' 
PREFATORY. 

I supposs there has scarcely ever been any large 
household, at any period of the world's history, so 
fortunate as not to possess one mauvais aujet — one 
Disgrace to the Family : there Jiave been households, 
such as Jacob's of old, wherein there have been ten 
Disgraces to two Credits, but that was an exceptional 
case. I speak within bounds, therefore, when I make 
use of the words of Mr Wadsworth Longfellow — 

There is no flock, however watched and tended. 
Bat one Black Sheep is there ; • 

There is no fireside, howe'er defended, 
Bat hath one yacant chair, 

about whose should-be occupant there is a silence in 
the domestic circle, and only an unpleasant whisper 
elsewhere. Like many other whispers, however, this 
circulates much more universally than any outspoken 
report. The name which we become moiist familiar 
with when we have made the acquaintance of his 
brethren — and often enough before we have made it 
— is poor Dick*s. The Disgrace to the Family is 
generally a Dick. Godfathers and godmothers in 
one's baptism should look to this. Tom, too, is rather 
a dangerous sort of name to give a lad ; but Alexander 
is safe enough; and as for James — I never even so 
much as heard of a James going wrong, except in the 
Stuart family. Nobody ever calls Dick, Richard — 
that is, * not since it happened, you know ' — except 
his mother. * My poor dear Richard,' she says, when 
she speaks of him at rare times to his earthly father, 
and at all times when she prays for him, as she does 
continually, to his Father which is in Heaven. Dick 
has all the world against him except his mother and 
me. I always did like Dick, and always shall ; a 
weakness, which — being a James myself, and out of 
the reach of any possible sympatliy with the young 
reprobate — is not a little creditable. * Well,' say I, to 
the friends of the family, 'since you are always 
saying, " He was bom bad, you see ; " and as I know 
that he had a bad name given to him at the baptis- 
mal font, would it not have been fl3ring in the face of 
Predestination, if he had not " turned out 1>ad " also ? 
Why, of course it would.' 

Although people talk about * It,' and * That bad 
business,* it must bo confessed that the youtli is not 
often made a castaway for his first fault. His usual 
course is. to commit a long list of misdemeanours, 
culminating in some ofifcnce, which, although serious, 

VOL. XV. 



would not of itself have placed him outside the pale 
of forgiveness. I have known a yoimg gentleman's 
character to be irreproachable up to the age of four- 
teen years, at which epoch he committed an atrocious 
and unextenuated child-murder; but he was not a 
favourite of mine either Iwfore or after that event, 
and his Christian name for what is accustomed to 
pass for such in Wales, his native country) was 
Cadwallader. He, however, be pleased to observe, 
was by no means a Black Sheep — ^which may, after 
all, be merely a healthy variety of the species— but 
one that had an evil disease in him, fatal to all his 
kind — the Rot ; not in the foot, indeed, as in the 
quadruped's case, but at his heart. 

The Black Sheep proper (which, however, is an 
adjective but rarely applicable to him) is often only 
black outside ; of an external ap})earance obviously 
objectionable indeed, but, within, very tolerable 
mutton. 

I have in my time known not a few of these unfor- 
tunates, nnd my kindliness towards them has led several 
(they being confiding creatures, who always wear their 
hearts upon their sleeves, of which circumstance the 
daws take great advantage) to reveal to me the 
history of their lives. Out of which several narra- 
tives, I am about to compile the following biography, 
for the good of my species (as well as for other 
reasons which need not he here set down) ; just as 
the warning beacon-fire, lit upon some wave-fretted 
promontory on stormy nights, is not made up of a 
single tree, marked from the first for such a purpose 
by the cruel axe, but out of many. If, in one single 
bark, bearing full sail upon those fatal breakers, the 
careless steersman shall perceive its flame, and seize 
the flapping helm while there is time, thereby preserv- 
ing ship and cargo, it will be well indeed : but if, 
evoked by this tiny danger-signal, one life-boat, that 
would else have lain securely in harbour, be induced 
to put out to the driving vessel, and give her aid, ere 
she become an utter wreck, it will be better still. A 
little help is often all she needs, although she looks 
in such a sad plight to us, on land. And for endeavour 
of this sort, be sure, whether it succeed or not, 
the rescuer may coimt securely on one day getting 
salvage. 

CUAPTER I. 
▲ FAMILT GBOUr. 

Richard Arbour was the fifth child and the third 
son of parents who considered their quiver sufficiently 
stocked with that sort of missile before his advent, 
which, moreover, occurred somewhat unexpectedly. 
The wind of a not particiUarly joyful dawn blew free 
in the silken sail of his infancy, three weeks or so 



r 



2 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



. I 



before that little Bhallop was expected upon the great 
ocean of life. The hypocrisy o^ *Weloome, Little 
Stranger,' would not perhaps have been inscribed 
upon his pinciiBhion, no matter what notice of his 
arriTsl mig^t have been rouchsafed beforehand, but, 
as it was, there were absolutely not enou^ pins; 
there was a total insufficiency of flannel; and as for 
his cradle, it was a something knocked up out of his 
eldest brother^s wheel-barrow (who never forgave that 
appropriation of his property), and looked, even when 
it was fitted up, and en grande tenue, a great deal 
more like an Indian 'tikinigan* than a Christian 
bassinette. His mother, poor thing, was glad perhaps 
to look upon his little mottled carcass; out nobody 
who had met his papa at 2 A. M. on that gustv 
December morning at the doctor^s door, with his silk 
umbrella blown mside out, and one shoe and one 
|Ui>per an, would have dieamed of congratulating 

How difleiently does Paterfamilias treat the first 
and fifth of these post-nuptial incidents! In the 
former case, ' our medical man,' not yet become ' our 
family doctor,' is warned to keep himself from distant 
journeys, in anticipation of tne important event; 
while that awful woman with the bundle — for we 
never yet saw one of her class with box or bag — is 
welcomed into the house, like the monster horse into 
Troy, bringing subjugation and desolation with her for 
weeks and weeks before it is absolutely necessary. 
Then the husband — ^not yet Head of the Family — 
banished once more into Bachelordom and a turn-up 
bedstead, starts up o' nights with ni^t-cap behind 
ear, and thinks he is wanted to f eteh Dt Neversleep 
a score of times before the real occasion, which com- 
monly takes place when he is out of the way ; spend- 
ing an hour, T)erhap8, with some friend of his youth, 
and a cigar— an accident which afflicts the new-made 
father with the acutest pangs of conscience. But 
when such an affiur has happened four times already, 
Pateriamilias takes it quieter a good deal ; doesn't 
■ee any particular cause for hurry ; declines to devote 
his mansion to Lucina imtil the last extremity; and 
(as we have seen) has eventually not even tmie to 
■elect his shoes of swiftness. 

Mr Benjamin Arbour was a tender-hearted husband 
too, and in his ardent anxiety, scarcely felt the cold 
at all until he had reached home again, w^hen getting 
into a damp bed in the attic chamber — for there was 
no fire for him to sit up by anywhere, except where 
his presence was forbidden —he became conscious 
that, as a gentleman subject to spitting of blood from 
the lungs, ne hod not been doing an entirely prudent 
thing. Mis teeth chattered so when Dt Neversleep 
came up to tell him the news, that that ph3rsician 
ascribed the phenomenon to marital anxiely, and 
at once hastened to allay it. 

/It 's all right, Mr Arbour,' exclaimed he cheerfully ; 
' it 's all right, and it isu^t twins.' 

'Is it a bub-bub- bub-bub?' inquired the father, as 
though his teeth were castanets. 

* Yes, it 's a boy,' replied the doctor, in a tone of 
oommiseration. 

'That's just like my luck,' quoth the disgusted 
parent; 'they cost just twice as much as girls, and / 
nave to teach 'em.' 

Mr Benjamin Arbour might have spared himself 
this last reflection, for he was not fated to become 
tutor to his fifth oflDsprin^ at aU. The damp attic and 
the slippered foot togenier were too much for the 
poor gentleman, and he was carried off by oonsump- 
tkm within a few weeks of the birth of his third boy. 
Our hero may therefore be said to have commenced 
his career in this world by committing parricide. 
That was the view his eldest brother ana sister — 
Adolphus and Maria — always took of it. These wero 
not nice young people. Adolphus had an enormous 



mouth, without any lips, aandy hair, sandy whisk 

but that is anticipating matters— whity-brown com- 
plexion, and green eyes; or, at least, one of them 
was a good deal more green than hazel Maria had 
black hair and a yellow skin, but she had one mind 
in common with her brother, and therefore it may 
be easily imagined that they were not very well 
provided in that respect. We are but too often apt to 
speak of person's minds as being *bad,' when the 
more applicable term by far would be * incomplete.' 
Our young friends above alluded to possessed several 
mental gifts : the talente for getting and for keeping ; 
determination, perseverance, and (in particular) humi- 
lity to their social superiors; while their prudence 
was so remarkable, that although the bump of that 
organ must have been tremen£>us (if the science of 
pm^nology is worth a moment's attention) on both 
their hea^ they concealed all evidence of the matter 
from the outward world. Some other virtues, how- 
ever — not without value in many eye^ — ^were, as it is 
written in the Modem Athens, quite *amissing;' 
especially those connected with the affections, which 
were in their case confined to that powerful passion 
which some philosophers assert to be the motive cause 
of all good works — namely. Self-love. It may, we 
are aware, be urged, that these matters shoiud be 
artistically made to disclose themselves during the 
course of this histoiy, but we think that in so doing 
we idiould treat our public very scurvily ; for would 
it be right to suffer these two persons, throughout 
perhaps a couple of volumes and a half, to impose 
upon Utentf just as they tricked the world, until the 
very last, in actual life? No. No Reader, however 
Gentle, would endure, after so many weeks of prostrate 
adoration of these idols, to be informed that their feet 
wore, after all, but of the commonest clay, and (by 
a too obvious corollary) that he himself had been but 
a benighted worshipper. 

Johnnie Arbour, the second boy, with his apple- 
cheeks and beady eyes, was a good-natured lad 
enough — so long as you did not vex him. He would 
never covet or desire another boy's toys, nor permit 
another boy to get beyond coveting his. Having 
considerable independence of character, and not being 
desirous of a playmate — brother Dolly, perhaps, ha\dng 
given him an unfavourable opinion of that sort of 
article — he had not been anxious for the new arrival ; 
but since he had made his appearance, he was ]>re- 
pared to put up with him, as with the multipUcatiou 
tablQ, stale bread on Monday mornings, the transitory 
nature of lollipops, or any other necessary eviL 

But Margaret, 'rare pale Margaret,' our Maggie, 
everybody's Maggie [Ah, how Dick's manner used to 
change w'hen he six>ke to us of her and of his mother ! 
No angry scorn about him then, and with the voice 
that had grown hoarse with paying back scorn for 
scorn to half the world, become as soft and gentle as 
a woman's !] — ^Maggie, we say, hailed ' ittle buddy's ' 
advent with rapture, holding it highest treat to stand 
afar off and see him in his tub — ^poor papa's foot- 
bath — or to bo suffered to delicatdy dint his che^ 
wiih. her tiny finger. Maggie was frail as a lily, 
and almost as white; but u any mortal creature, 
from King Herod to a sausage-maker, had threatened 
to harm that baby, she would have drawn bodkin, 
and done battle with her life. 

As for our hero's mother, we are introduced to the 
sweet lady at an evil time, when the gentle eyes arc 
red with weeping, and the delicate frame is tried with 
watching ; but sue is fair, as Maggie's mother should 
be, even yet. Her only earthly consolation, now that 
the dark shadow of death has crossed the threshold, 
and pointe towards the lover of her youth — the sharer 
of life's hox)es and fears, so long, that all existence 
that has been passed by her away from him seems 
but as a dream— is her new-bom infaut. As he lies, 
after the manner of the luxurious ancients, upon his 
ivory couch, and takes his meals rccliningly, he little 



knows what eyes of holiest lore acre feeding on him 
in their turn. 

O well-defended b^he, that hast by niffht and da^ a 
sentiiiel not all the treasnres of the woim oonld bnbe 
to do thee wrong, and whose Ansdi stands before the 
Tery throiie of heaven, sleep on ^^niile yet secure, with 
thy small hand curled like a roeo'leaf beneath thy 
mother's breast J 

CHAPTER IL 
7ATHBXLKS8. 

It has been suggested to us that iHiile mentioning 
some characteristics of the Arbour family, we have 
yet been guilty of a very serious omission. For all 
that has been told at present, thev mav have belonged 
to one of the vulgarest classes ot society, and conse- 
quently have been altogether beneath human — that is 
to say, properly constii^ted himian — ^interest. Let us 
hasten, therefore, to set this matter in its proper 
li^t while there is yet time. At the risk, and mdecd 
the certainty, of cutting off electrical relations with a 
considerable number of readers, whose sensibilities we 
have no desire to shock, and whose well-cultivated 
hair we would on no account cause to stsnd on end 
by bringing them face to face with persons of ' small 
means ' — at the risk, we repeat, of dfminishing our 
aodience by emptying the Dress-circle and ihe Stalls 
at the very outset, we confess, once for aD, that the 
ArboBTS were not and never had been *eairiace- 
people.' But, on the other hand, ladies and genue- 
men of the Pit and Galleries, neither were they 
merely * genteel * or * respectable.' The Arbours were 
a rotmd or two in the social ladder above you, O 
middle dasses ! and therefore, as we conclude, not by 
any means unworthy of ffour interest and sympathy. 

Mr Benjamin Arbour, now struggling hopelessly 
with consumption, was in the receipt of five hundred 
a year or so ; but that income was, alas ! so peculiarly 
his own that it oeased with his life. He filkd also a 
periiape responsible and certainly mysterious office 
committed to him by the government of his native 
country. He was an Authorised Commissioner for 
witnessing the Deeds of Married Women. Whether the 
duties of Siis post are, in reality, so disgracefully inqui- 
sitorial as its name would imply, we do not know, 
but we may be certain tiiat Mr Arbour had his oon- 
Borfs full permission to discharge them. He had had 
probably about as few secrets intrusted to him through- 
out his life as anybody — for men composed one*half of 
quicksilver, and the other half of the milk of human 
kindness, are known to be but indifferent repositories 
lor such things — and he had certainly never had a 
single secret nom his wife. They had been married 
nearly fifteen years, and nevertheless oould scarcely be 
termed mid(Uie-aged people. It would be no exagger- 
ation to say that until now, when he found himself 
dying, he had never once seriously regretted the 
having wedded Letitia Banks. The imprudent Boy 
and Uiri, as they had been called, had been very 
happy together for those three lustrums, in spite of 
all good-natured prophecies to the contrary. 

Ingram Arbour, the merchant — elder and only 
brother to Benjamin — had even predicted th^ final 
aettiement in the workhouse of their native district 
in JOevQBshire, and he was a man who had a renu- 
tatioa for judgment too. He also had been lett a 
life-interest in a sum of money which secured him 
five hundred a year, and periiaps possessed it 
still — unless it had been advantageously disposed 
of — hat that was a mere nothing in comparison 
wiik his present possessions. He had not found 
hiMiself hampered with a wife and family in the 
seooad holidays after he had left school He had 
noi bought a cottace — ^the one redeeming circumstance 
ooDDected with which in ku eyes, was, that it was on 
the bank ol a rivef, which mi^t perhaps afford 
aecidental pmviaioa for surplas chiklren^-nor buried 



himself in the country, like a talent laid up in a napkin, 
accumulating nothing but small-change. It was the 
contemplation of that small-change that diiefly troubled 
poor Benjamin now, uid made him almost wish that 
he had remained a bachelor. He had faith in a good 
Providence, and did not doubt that a Raven of some 
sort would be sent to feed those hun^y mouths ; but 
he would certainly have preferred to nave felt hinn^4f 
more deeply connected with the £agle. That was 
the name of the Assurance Office from which one 
thousand pounds would be due to the family after 
his death, besides which there were two thousand 
pounds of Leety's own, and that was all. 

* I wish, dearest,' gasped he, as she was smoothing 
his pillow upon the very last day that she ever haS 
that loving office to periorm for him — ' I do so wish 
that it was more.' Me spoke so low that even the 
ear of love failed to catch his meaning; but Leety 
heard the word *wish,' and all her faculties were 
at once devoted to find out what this desire of ti^e 
dying man might be. 

* Do you wim to see our children, Benjv, dear?' 
She had called him by that fond title ever since 

that walk upon the purple Devon moorland far away 
and long ago, where they two had plighteil their troth. 
What a miracle of strength and b^uty he had then 
seemed to her, and now this ghastly shadow was all 
that remained of him, itself about to flit into the 
darkness of Death! Yet, be sure, he was never so 
dear to her before. Not if she could have lived her 
life again, at that moment, would she have spent it 
otherwise as regarded that departing clay. She 
would have chosen no other than he though this end 
had been foreshewn from the beginning. Not one 
of the wretched minutes which yet remained to her 
to watch that still loving face would she have bartered 
for centuries of Paradise. 

* Do you wish to see our children, Benjy, dear V 
He neither spoke nor stirred, but his eyes, which 

were yet clear and even brilliant, and that watched 
her every motion, replied : * Yes, dearest.' 

Adolphus and Maria, Johnnie and M^^e, were 
marched in therefore — the two latter handin hand, 
for thev were smitten with vague terror, understand- 
ing only that that Something was impending whose 
coming had kei)t the house so still for weeks. But 
the eyes said: * There is yet another, Leety;' and 
No. 5 was transferred from the nursery to his mother's 
arms, who for this once, however, regarded him not, 
nor sealed his infant eyelids with her lips. The two 
eldest children were tall enough to lean over the bed- 
side and salute for the last time their father's forehead ; 
an operation which they performed in a very rapid 
and energetic manner, much as a superstitious dealer 
at whist hastens to tap the tnunp card as soon as it is 
turned up, for luck. Johnnie, with his ruddy apple- 
face turned to the colour of a lemon, climbed up the 
bed, and said, * Good-bye, father,' in compliance with 
his mother's whisper, very dutifully. But little 
Maggie lay by her father's side in an agony of grief, 
and covered his grisly chin with tears and kisses. 

There was no need for any farewell between those 
two, who had been acting, saying, thinking nothing 
but farewells since Dr Ncversleep had said in his 
firm, kind voice : * I can do nothii^ further, my good 
friend, now, but pray for you ; ' but as Leety stooped 
down over him to put her baby's cheek to his mouth, 
that he too in after-years might know that his father 
had kissed him, her husband, reminded by that action 
perhaps of that which had been oppressing his mind 
before, murmured once again : * I wish, Le^y, I do so 
wish that it was more.' 

*W^hat does he mean? What does your father 
mean ?' cried she appcalingly, for nothing was more 
distant from her own thoughts than that which was 
agitating his. 

On tMs, Maria whispered something to Adolphus, 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



and straightway that young gentleman observed, in 
spite of ner evident reluctance to have her remark 
repeated : ' Please, mamma, Maria thinks papa is 
wishing that he had left us some more money. 

This young lady of ten years old did indeed possess 
a great sagacity, and even, as we have seen, consider- 
able modesty in the exhibition of it ; and yet there 
was something uncomfortably just in the remark 
which nurse Rachel subsequently made in the ser- 
vants' hall, when dcscribiiig the above scene in her 
master's death-chamber: *Twaa an odd thing for 
such a mere child to have been thinking of money, 
at a time like that, too ! ' 

The above wish was the last idea that Mr Arbour 
lived to express, and in a few more minutes there was 
no protector left to poor Leety and her offspring, save 
Him who makes the Widow and the Fatnerlcss his 
peculiar care. The bereft devoted woman would not 
easily have been persuaded, perhaps, to leave that 
precious clay— would have watched by the casket half 
the night, though her jewel lay in the place where 
thieves break not through nor steal — ^but that a tiny 
cry arose from No. 5, reminding her that there was a 
duty and a joy in this world yet. 

For a week, there was a silence throughout the 
cottage by the river, only broken by sad sounds. The 
clock ticked on the stairs more solemnly, as though it 
were discoursing upon matters graver than Time ; the 
stairs creaked under muffled footsteps ; the servants 
conversed in muffled tones. Once only a laugh broke 
forth from the kitchen, arising from some inaSvertent 
domestic, and immediately reproved by a * For shame, 
Jane, don't you remember what has happened?' and 
succeeded by tears ; and once a prolonged and hearty 
howl issued from Master Johnnie, who had been very 
foohahly forbidden by nurse Rachel to spin his hiun- 
ming-top, in consideration of the domestic calamity 
which had befallen him. 

After that weary week, the early summer sim again 
shoue into that reopened chamber, as full of light and 
warmth as ever, though it seemed not so to her who 
lay upon the widowed bed, and the memory of the 
dead man faded fast away from every heart save one, 
as the darkness dwindles before the dawn. Another 
life had begun to fill the place of that which had 
departed, and to the end that it shoidd do so worthily, 
they carried it in gorgeous cap and flowing linen, to 
abjure the pomps and vanities of the world at the 
baptismal font. In a word. No. 5, who had as yet 
been only registered, was christened, and was named 
— as Steele, and Savage, and half the scapegraces of 
the world had been named before him — Richard, the 
long for Dick. 



CHINESE COMMERCR 

When Napoleon said in his wrath, that the English 
were a nation of shopkeepers, the epithet which he 
flung in anger was repelled with scorn. It was reserved 
for a later generation to recall the words of the Man of 
Destiny, to discover involuntary praise in the apparent 
taunt, and proudly to fit upon Britannia's head what 
the original constructer meant for anything but a 
Cap of Dignity. And right is the modern reading of 
the phrase ; better is it to produce than to ravace and 
bum ; better to be a nation of shopkeepers than of 
idle beggars, of moonstruck dreamers, or of brigand 
soldiery. Britannia has surely chosen \%-i8ely and 
well. But if the original reproach had l>cen thrown 
in the teeth of John Chinaman instead of John Bull, 
even by bitterest foeman, and in the heat of the 
sternest struggle, the expression would have been 
smirkingly accepted as. praise, pure, imaUoyed praise. 
It never enters the head of a Chinese to despise 
traffic in any form. Whatever turns a penny is 
worthy of honourable mention, accord^ to the 



ethics of the Flowery Land. True, the farmer 
ranks before the shopkeeper, before the manu- 
facturer, before the mighty merchant, piling a city's 
wealth in his hang^ before even the bcbuttoned 
mandarin, for did not Confucius declare that agri- 
culture was the basis of society, and do not all 
Chinese laws class the cultivator highest in the 
scale of orders? Yet it is better to be a merchant 
in China than anything else. If the Sacred BookB 
are less eloquent in the trader's praise than in that 
of the agriculturist, the property of the former is 
safer from rebel, and locust, and greedy prefect, than 
the gamers of the other or his teeming fields. If the 
emperor pays Ceres the annual attention of laying 
his own nand on the stilts of the royal plough, and 
tracing the first furrow in the fat black plain of 
Pe-tche-li, the poor farmer is not much the better 
for this ceremony ; the Taipings and the Imperialists 
make bare the land they march over, and whoever 
prevails, his crops must nourish the victor. 

It is only of late that we Outer Barbarians have 
begun to get a glimpse of the extraordinary vitality 
of Chinese commerce, of the wonderful stir, and hum, 
and bustle of that enormous human hive, on whose 
extreme confines we have been stationed for centuries 
as tenants-at-wilL Under the old rigtine^ when we 
dwelt in Cantofn alone, and there on suff^erance, our 
most practical men had but a dim idea how colossal 
was the trade of the huge empire. In spite of the 
vast amount of our imports from China — in spite of 
our fleets of tea-laden merchantmen, of our consign- 
ments of raw and manufactured silks — it gradually 
became manifest that we were mere gleaners of the 
great golden harvest, mere outsiders and nibblers at 
the gorgeous prize. China can better spare us than 
we Chma. Our tea-pots depend upon the good 
pleasure of the Flowery Land, while to the Celestials 
we simply represent so much silver annually. Our 
cash is all they will take, hitherto, and a one-sided 
bargain we have been f orcisd to make of it ; but it is 
merely because China regards us as an ungracious and 
unwelcome customer, insists on ready -money dealings 
for such articles as we will and must buy, ridicules 
reciprocity, declines our goods, and turns a cold 
shoulder to Manchester. Why is this ? Have we, 
then, to do with a people such as may be found in 
more than one part of the map of Europe, a nation 
grudging every i)enny spent beyond its own borders, 
suspicious, hoaniing, and utterly averse to enter- 
prise? This is not a description applicable to the 
sleek Mongolians of the great double Delta. Although 
their chief traffic is the home-trade, still they buy 
and sell with many other foreigners than ourselves, 
and do business with a himdred rude tribes whose 
ideas of commerce do not soar beyond the plainest 
barter, and who have not a single ounce of silver to 
contribute to the till of John Chinaman. Tliis foreign 
trade is altogether in Chinese hands ; the merchants 
know the wants of their own countrymen to a nicety, 
and by long experience are equally well acquaintcKl 
with the requirements of the semi-savages by whom 
they are surroundecL 

Tartary and Tibet, for instance, require tea as 
urgently as we Fanquia of Enghuid and America ; they 
use millions of pounds yearly, all of which must reach 
the customer by a long and painful land-transport 
system. Within the Great Wall, men. are found to he 
cheaper than any other beasts of burden. The brick- 
tea of the province of Hoo-pe is intended for the con- 
sumption of the Mongol and Kirghiz hordes ; even as 
the chest- tea is designed to refresh British palates; 
and the sack-tea, sewn up in leathern bags, well coated 
with varnish, is destined to gladden the thirsty Russian. 
But more tea, to the best of our information, leaves 
China in the form of bricks than in any other way. 
Boxes could never be carried, unbroken, on the backs 
of men over rugged and almost trackless mountainB, 
through ravines, thorny brakes, treacherous monuues, 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



and sulleii wastes ; boxes could never scale precipices 
by pvths fit only for the hill-goat, cross ridges perilous 
wita ice and walled by snow, stru^le through storms 
and mire, and finally arrive triumphantly at the 
frontier town, where a new mode of conveyance is 
ready. No, until our en^neers shall tunnel through 
the savage defiles of the Fey-yue-lin^, and European 
skill construct railways where now me hardy ponies 
of the Tartars can scarce keep their footing, brick-tea 
will be the favourite in the markets of Lassa and 
Samarcand. The tea which is to be the standard 
beverage and daily comfort of the wanderiim millions 
of Central Asia, is chiefly, though not whoUy, grown 
in the province of Hoo-pe. A coarse black leaf is this, 
when aried, and one warranted to please the taste of 
Tamerlane's rough-riding countrymen. After drying, 
the leaves are to be squeezed into shape ; and for this 
purpose, wooden moulds are requirea, in which the 
leaves are placed, and violently stamped down by 
barefooted coolies, besides being smeared with gum, 
glue, a sort (d gruel made of rice stewed to pulp, and 
even blood, to make the component parts adhere. 
Then the brick is dried in a small kiln, and tossed 
aside, hard and perfect; hereafter to be chopped in 
pieces by Tartar natchets, flunff into a great seething 
iron calcbon, boiled alon^; with nuge lumps of butter, 
by way of a delicate reush, and swallowed in bowls 
of greasy scalding liquor around the wild bivouac- 
fires of the steppe. But the brick-tea has far to 
go before it reaches its consumers. First, the bricks 
are placed in bamboo-baskets, then tiie pair of 
baskets are slimg at either end of a balance-pole, 
and the pole rests on the brown, bare shoulder of a 
porter, or coolie. A patient race are those coolies, 
strofiiff, swift, and far m>m cowardly. They have but 
one ^ar on earth, apart from a certain irrational 
dread of the spirits of the mountains. They fear 
the mandarin — the dreadful pedant in the official 
cap, with the little round button surmounting all, like 
the great Panjandrum himself — ^the mandarin who 
deals out pillory and scour^, and has torturers at 
his beck, and soldiers withm call, and quotes law 
and philosophy for wrenching Sin-sing's thumbs from 
their sockets, or caging Lung-lung in the hideous 
canffue for many a sleepless ni^t and shameful day. 

l^Lese poor porters are gay and cheerful enough 
when out of ioe shadow of law ; they face cold and 
beat, tempest and wolves, with admirable courage, and 
approve tnemselves on their long journeys to be own 
brothers to those* sturdy coolies of the LsLnd Trans- 
port Service, who, at the capture of the Forts, leaped 
into the moat, to act as livmg props for the ladoers 
on which the French stormers crossed. The pay of 
a porter is not unduly hi^ considering his . load, 
which is never less than eighty poimds in weight. 
By government tariff, he gets a sapeck — ^worth the mth 
of a farthing — ^for every Ti of road traversed. Three li 
^ to a mile Engliah, and from twenty to thirty miles 
» a day's march, according to route and weather. 
This is mudi the same as the caravan-day of Western 
Asia, but* in the Levant the animals of burden have 
the advantage of four feet 

Brick-tea is not the only article of export to the 
western borders of .the Celestial Empire. China is to 
the vast oountries that form the heart of Asia exactly 
what England and France are to Russia. She sends 
them hixuries and fashions, as well as blocks of tea. 
The silken scar& of ceremony, without which no 
polite intercourse can take ; place in Tibet, and the 
annual demand for which is reckoned by hundreds of 
thousands, are all made in China. The white, red, 
and graen paper, so commonly used for writing in all 
BudcUiist countries, come from China too, as does the 
ink with which every Mongolian writes, and which 
we call Lidian ink. The ftms of Tartar ladies ; the 
idols coveted by bonzes far away in the rolling plains 
of Siberia and Torkistan ; the rockets that are to be 
tent qparkMng into tiie i^ ftt Scythian feasts ; the 



silken robes that Calmuc dandies are to figure in — all 
these, and many more such things, have to cross the 
mountains and deserts as best they can. Gunpowder, 
too, is a necessary which the rugged drinkers ol mare's 
milk love to buy in the Chinese market ; like most 
Asiatics in regions where the saUs petrum, the mystic 
rock of Friar Bacon, abounds, they can make their 
own powder for common use ; but that of China is 
superior for their long-barrelled matchlocks, which 
require a strong but slow-burning qiudity. Cloth 
and silk and metal, tobacco and opium and pipes, 
swell the invoice of Cathay's consignments to her 
hardy neighbours. Poreelam is too fragile a com- 
modity to pass those snow-capped ranges and dreary 
wUds that form the boimdary of the huge Chinese 
garden. It is as much as the supercaigo can do to 
carry his plump person and flowered robes through 
such a howling wildemeas ; but business can convert 
even a Chinaman into a knight-errant. A merehant 
among the Celestials, if he be truly a merchant, and 
not a mere broker and buyer on commission, is the 
centre of a system. He is much such a Mercator as 
our dear old Whittington must have been, with his 
flotilla of iunks, his host of clerks, his array of porters 
and watcnmen, and his staff of bustling aides-de- 
camp. The latter are the commereial travellers of 
China; they sail in ships, they creep along shallow 
lagoons in the most primitive of canoes ; they bump 
and swing in palanquins over every road from Mant- 
chooria to Tonquin. Nor does the Great Wall form 
the horizon of tJteir world ; they boldly mount the 
camel, and strike off into the endless plains ; they 
winter in the underground huts of Sibenau savages ; 
they ride oxen up and down the frozen mountains 
of hungry Tibet ; they make the wasp-waisted 
Persians stare as they stout in their outlandish garb 
through the Mushed Bazaar ; and they are to be 
foimd in Russia, at the Novgorod Fair, offering 
their wares for sale, and smirking in the face <3 
Christendom. 

These peripatetic gentry are of very various origin. 
Sons and nephews of their employers are some of 
them, and these, by a not unusual ne^iotiBm, get 
the best berths in the merehant's gift; they sail 
in lordly barges up and down the Rivers Blue and 
YeUow, or they drop pleasantly down over the 
summer sea to the nch Isles of Spice, or fat Siam, 
or even the Great Cinnamon Island itself. The supe- 
rior class of junks have cabins superbly fitted up ; 
and the supercargo has all the pleasures of a yachts- 
man's life combined with the profits of his own. But 
for such young aspirants as are bom with a wooden 
spoon rather than a silver one. Destiny has a tougher 
task. Corea is their destination, or perhaps bleak 
Mongolia, or gaunt Tibet, or the Land of Grass. They 
must, pass many a weary year among barbarians, 
ignorant of Confucian precepts and Chinese polite- 
ness ; they must endure the long and bitter winters 
of those high table-lands, live a hard life, brave untold 
dangers, and bear banishment from all their habits 
andnaimts, to be qualified for promotion. They set 
off, amid the tears and condolences of relatives and 
friends, in their little bamboo palanquins, or in their 
boats, until the palanquin- work begins. Theirs is a 
great responsibility, and a life of care. Those 
penniless coohes who carry them and their goods 
through rain and sunshine, over rough and smooth, 
can smg and laugh as they go, but Chang must be 
thoughtful, Chang must sleep with one eye open, that 
his goods may be safe; he must dispute about toll 
and custom with this or that Jack-in-office ; must call 
on this governor and that prefect, with gifts on a tray, 
and compliments daintily painted on blush-coloured 
paper, and taoli talk on his dulcet lips, and suspi- 
cion ever whispering at his ear. Chang has to pay 
the porters and be^rs, to keep an eye on his Ixnly- 
servants, to fee and bargain with his boatmen, to 
watch iptos aiftodeSy the very watchmen who mount 



6 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



gnard over his trcasnre in the greedy pilfering 
towns. Then there are other dangers than wolf 
and wildemeas, than tourmentes of snow, and 
slippery paths, and bottomless quagmires. Chan^ 
has to see to all — to learn if there are really* banditti 
on the road, and if the said banditti are mere petty 
larceny rogues, or brigands of the first water, the 
desperate Koan-koueny or highwaymen, at whose name 
mandarins tremble. Chang must bespeak a guard 
of soldiers, if needed ; must keep up tne courage of 
those timorous protectors when he has got them ; 
must elicit information from all. separating a crumb 
of truth from a whole bushel of lies, white, black, 
and gray. The luckless supercargo has money with 
him ; he must have money, for there are no bankers 
outside China Proper; and those silver dollars and 

f listening ingots are a perpetual blister to their 
;eeper, as he struggles on, nvith his argent fleece, 
through thorns social and thorns official 

At last he gets to the frontier, and there, on the 
borders of the Land of (»rass, or the Great Desert of 
Gobi, or the mountain- slopes of Tibet, his future escort 
meets him. There they are in their sheep-skins, the 
uncouth shaggy Tartars, with their tall 8{)ear8, their 
train of camels, lean horses, and wild accoutrements. 
There are the fur-clad men of Tibet, in lambs-wool 
caps and fringed vests, with their active ponies and 
■addle oxen, those sure-footed yellow-haired yaks 
that bear man and bale over the gigantic Himalava 
glaciers. And among them is a civilise<l creature, by 
contrast, at least, a Chinaman bom, and a brother- 
supercargo, who comes forward to offer Chang the salu- 
tation of welcome. He is a real Chinaman, lb Ching, 
and in honour of his compatriot has jmt on a smart 
blue or green gown, edged with delicate fur, boots 
of black satin, a decent cap, and a vest of figured 
satin, ^ith girdle and fan ; but yet Chang, fresh from 
city-life, eyes him as a tame dog would regard a 
half-reclaimed dingo. He has a rough face and a 
bronzed skin, has Ching; his beard and eyebrows 
are shaggy and Tartar-like; his nails are short and 
unpolished : the whole man has a fierce, roving, ogreish 
look, caught from nomadic comrades. Chang has but 
a low opinion of his comrade Ching. But it is his turn 
now to jump upon a pony and ride off into the 
boundless ])astures, and sleep under the tent, and live 
with rude truth -telling robbers, strong of hand and 
bhiff of speech. Ching goes homf^ to be smoothed and 
pohshed in Nankin or Kioimg-tcheou, to recall for- 
gotten accomplishments, and to cultivate literature 
and his own fortunes. Chang has eight or ten years 
of voluntary exile to get tlirough, to learn new ways 
and languages, to sell in the dearest market, and to 
make afi he can out of the credulous Scythians. His 
salary is handsome. He will probably marry a ' large- 
footed * woman, and become quite a domestic char- 
acter in the camps of the nomades, but he will be 
careful to leave behind him wife and children when 
his probation is over, to pronounce his own divorce, 
and go home a bachelor. There are no real ties for a 
Celestial out of the Central Land. 

The Chinese land-traf!ic is in most peril from the 
encroachments of Russia. Every year sees the elastic 
border of the czar's empire stretch to the south-west, 
every year beholds a new band- of Muscovite explorers 
hovering on the borders of Khiva and Turkistan, a new 
steamer on the Aral Sea, the Oxus, or the Jaxartes, and 
the arms and trade of Russia j>ushing on into the centre 
of the once mighty Turan of the Tartars. But still 
Chang is busy; the cloth and cotton of China are 
more welcome to the Scythians than the cloth of 
Leeds and the calico of Manchester; Chans knows 
what his customers like, has fathomed the depth of 
their ])urses, anticipates their whims with re8|)ect to 
trinkets and silk, and makes a fortime out of their 
flocks and herds in his slow quiet way. Cattle and 
sheep fetch money in North China ; camels are almost 
the currency of Mongolia and Mantchooria ; and horses 



are constantly imported into China from the steppes. 
There are a mat many horses kept by mandarins 
and other wealthy persons, as a matter of luxury ; the 
Chinese are scMny grooms and not very liberal masters ; 
the ftnimftla die fast, and new droves are continually 
rei^uired. Furs, wool, rhubarb, tallow, butter, arc the 
chief importations from the wild west. Besides this 
collection of raw material, Tartary sends iron ore, fur- 
boots, fur-pehases, feathers, eider-down, and charcoal ; 
Tibet offers sword-blades and leather ; some shawls and 
spioes from Lidia, some rare wild animals for Celestial 
menageries, dried venison and jerked beef. Both 
countries send a little silver, a metal which China 
absorbs and retains, never parting with an ounce, 
save in payment of the Malwa opium, or to make up 
a war indemnity. The southern trade, carried on as 
it is by junks, is a profitable barter. China must 
have amber and ambergris, edible nests, sea-slugs, 
weed, coral, spices and scented woods, copper and 
tin, gold, silver, and gems; and she pays for these 
in manufactured gooos, sold at great profit, and 
produced by the untiring industry of myriads of busy 
hands. The north trade is for ore and caviare^ for 
sturgeons and wild-fowl, fuel and timber; and tea, 
wooUen fabrics and delicacies from the south, pay for 
these. 

This mighty aggregate of human beings may be 
pardoned for oelieving that commerce, like charity, 
begins at home, and that a third part of Adam's 
progeny can find plenty of buyers and sellers there. 
It is the home-traae which absorbs the chief industry 
of the non-a^cultural portion of the community. 
This is no insignificant traffic, no petty transfer from 
the right hand to the left. Three hundred and 
more are the millions who have to be fed, clothed, 
tauffht, sheltered, amused, and buried within yellow 
Catnay. The * articles of primary necessity,' to quote 
from a French tariff^ are grain, fish, oil, and tea. Man in 
China is a consumer ol fiurinaceous food, not a mutton- 
devouring camifex, as in Central Asia. The north 
eats millet, and beans, and wheat ; the south calls rice 
its staff of life ; and both require fish and pork, oil for 
the stew-pan and oil for tne lamp, arrack and tea. 
China is probably the only country where cold water — 
Adam's ale—the oldest and cheapest of beverages, 
finds no drinkers. Cold draughts are poison, according 
to Chinese domestic medicine. The poorest cannot 
dispense with hia scalding tea, his boding rice-wine, 
his corn-brandy simmering in the cup. ferhaps this 
universal mania for hot liquors helps to corrode Celes- 
tial teeth and to undermine Celestial constitutions; 
they soon get old, ugly, and toothless. At an3rrate, 
the demana for tea is as constant and certain as the 
demand for ^ain itself; and tobacco is nearly ia equal 
request, for m China all are smokers, whether men or 
women; vast <][uantities of the Nicotian leaf are grown 
in every province, though the finest qualities come 
from Yun-nan, in the south. 

The great arteries of commerce in China are those 
gigantic rivers, the Hoang-ho and the Yang-tsze-kiang, 
which, with their tributary streams, the chains of 
lagoons to which they afford access, and the grand 
system of artificial canals, supply an amount of water- 
carriage unequalled in the woruL Bat all this wonder- 
ful organisation has felt the decay inherent in the 
fatal Mantchoo polity. Under the Toke of the Tartar 
sovereigns, the noble canals of the Song dynasty, 
and the Imperial highways of the Ming, have been 
suffered to fall into ruin and disorder. Even the 
embankments of the Blue and Yellow rivers are 
seldom kept in efficient repair, and floods like those 
of Friesland spread ruin and famine over the rice- 
fields at every period of very heavy raina The great 
Imi)erial Canal itself, that boast of the empire, is choked 
and shallow in many places, and its traffic only exists 
on paper, in those respectful memoirs with which 
the dutiful prefects annually deluge the emperor's 
chancery. But still, where man's work has decayed, the 



huce watery roads, the Blue and Yellow Rivers, pour 
th6ir waves through fertile lands, and waft a hundred 
thousand keels from the interior to the ocean. No 
other country can shew Each aqueous Titans as 
these, to which Rhine and Rhone are but brooks, 
yellow Ganges a thread, and endless Missismppi a 
narrow stream with a dangerous channel But the 
Blue River, three hundred miles from its mouth, is 
seven miles across from shore to shore, and deep enough 
to accommodate an armada. Both rivers have their 
fleets of junks of every size and class, their squadrons 
of lorchas, their flotillas of barges, their swarms 
of canoes and of sampans, and their floating towns 
as well, where millions dwefl amphibiously in arks of 
strange shape, moving down with the tide, or anchored, 
like an aquatic villagje, in some favourite bay. Half 
the merchandise of the empire finds its wa^ up and 
down these great rivers, from city to city, from 
province to province, paying toll and excise as it goes, 
and affording employment to m^ads. Before the 
sanguinary insurrection of the Taipings scourged the 
land, the porcelain trade alone reqnir^ thousands of 
junks ; Nankin had a million of operatives employed 
in the potteries, and another million of skilful workers 
toiled at Khioung-tcheou-fou, to fabricate jars and 
vessels of every pattern, from the famous clays called 
kaolin and pe-tim-ye, long believed to be peculiar to 
Saxony, though since cuscovered in France and 
OomwalL But Celestial Virtue and his plundering 
hordes have held Nankin for more than two years, 
have ruined its trade, and butchered its people, have 
wasted Khioung-tcheou, and have made desolate that 
smaller rival of theirs, Song-tcheou-fou, where the most 
delicate fabrics of porcelain, silk, paper, and eotton 
were wrought by the most cunning hands, and the 
finest taste that China could produce. Every branch 
of industry, from the coal-pits and petroleum wells of 
the north, to the vineyards of Yun-nan, has suflered 
from the civil war ; for the Taipings bum and destroy, 
but produce nothing, and even the industry of careful 
practical China languishes under the ¥rxthering blight 
of this strange army. 

Still the buyers and sellers are le^on, still ^e fields 
beyond the baleful sway of the Taixnngs are cultivated 
and productive to an extent which our market-gardens 
but faintly realise, and with few cattle and awkward 
tools, the most amazing husbandry contrives to feed a 
third of humanity. With all the trembling caution, the 
▼igilant suspicion, with which the Mantchoo emperors 
have ever contemplated clubs and combinations among 
their subjects, tne most entire licence has been 
extended to merchants in carrying out their opera- 
tions. They form and break partnerships ; they 
establish companies, small and great ; they carry on 
their trade according to their own good pleasure. A 
Chinese company needs no charter; it conducts 
gigantic affairs unmolested ; it requires no private acts 
of parhameat, and fears no opposition in committee. 
Nor is insurance unknown to the Celestials; they 
have firms that will underwrite anything you please, 
from a rich cargo, or a steamer, to a field of pumpkins. 
They have their bankers and discounters, even as we 
have; and if they have no state bank-paper, their 
chief merchants issue bills, or, to use an Indian term, 
hoondees, which are payable on demand, and will be 
cashed at any city of note throughout the empire. 
Indeed, such a contrivance is rendered needful by 
the great weight and bulk of Chinese coin. The 
strings of cash, which form the real money of the 
Flowery K inborn, are enormously weighty ; those 
perforated coins, rudely struck in an alloy of copper 
and lead, and called cash, sapecks, or tchengs, are 
small in themselves, but for extensive purchases they 
are as cumbrous as the iron pennies of Sparta. 

A very good criterion of the cheapness of a country 
is the value of its most fractional coinage, and here 
China bears the belL A penny English is worth 
twenty cash, or sapecks ; and fcr legitimate money, 



one can hardly go lower than five pieces to tha 
farthing ; even the cowrie-shell of India is worth that. 
A sapeok will buy something : it will buy a porter's 
labour for the third of a mile ; it will purchase a meal 
of some sort, a fish, or a slice of melon, or a handful 
or two of rice stewed in oil, or a few succulent stalka 
of the Chinese sugar-cane, or Hokkua wrgfmm. It 
conynands luxuries, a seat in a theatre, let us say, 
or a brace of whifb of the opium-pipe, or a pinch ol 
tobacco, or two or three cups of hot tea or corn- 
brandy. But when you wish to deal with reputable 
shopkeepers, still more, if you want to chaffier in. 
some of the endless fairs and markets that go on 
perpetually all over the empire, you require a plurality 
of sapecks. The merchant must have porters to 
carry nis coin ; so must the small-footed lady, as she 
totters gracefully on her lackered boot- heels into the 
marts oi fashion ; so must the yawning dandy, who 
turns over the poems and treatises in the bookseller'a 
with his eagle claws, curved, and lone, and as polished 
as pumice-stone and unguents can ma^ethem. Sapecks 
are the recognised medium, and though there are 
higher denominations of the root of evil, such as 
candareens and pistareens, mace and taels, these only 
exist in the imagination of mankind. A string of ten 
cash goes to a candikreen, for example, and a thousand 
to a taeL Now, as our war indemnity amounts to the 
trifling amount of eight millions of taels, it might be 
a curious speculation to discover how long it would 
take to count up the billions of demicentimes reouired 
of the Brother of the Sun by the barbarians of Fran* 
gistan. And of what conceivable use would all that 
copper alloy be to us, unless to mould into Mini6 
rine-balls, or sheet the bottoms of steam-frigates 1 
Happily, however, China makes great payments in 
metal of a more convenient assay. In considerable 
transactions, mercantile and national, the Celestials 
resort to silver in bars and in^^ts; and in silver of 
perfect purity — Sycee silver, as it used to be called in 
Canton — the cost of this war will be paid by the 
loser. Scales are continually required in a Chinese 
bargain on a great scale ; every merchant, pedler, or 
supercargo has these with him, and the wei^t of .the 

Sure metal is established by a scrutiny worthy of 
hylock. To save the inconvenience of cutting bars, 
some great merchants are accustomed to stamp their 
seals on both ends of an ingot, which, thus guaranteed 
in weight, passes from hand to hand like a bank- 
token. Gold is weighed out too, and sold at so much 
per ounce, but only during a dearth of silver, which, 
with copper, is the staple of national currency, while 
gold is regarded as jewels are esteemed elsewhere, in 
the light of an ornamental luxury, to be used up in 
embroidery, gilding, and decoration. 

The bankers are not. the least important denizens of 
the Central Land, but they do not confine themselves 
to legitimate bank business ; they are tea-merchants, 
distillers, silk-factors, cotton-factors, or the lords of 
many kilns ; they lend money on security, but they 
do not love to talk of their advances, for the great 
mandarins may be exjtected to ask for a loan any 
day, and mandarins are not fond of taking a denial 
A good deal of Chinese trade goes on with borrowed 
capital, but not in proportion to the credit-system 
of Europe. The hign rate of interest required by 
a Chinese banker — 90 per cent. — is an unfailing 
index to the risk which attends pecuniary loans 
in a country of civil wars and capricious govern- 
ments. In the England of the Stuarts, in spite of 
rebellions, plots, and disquiet, 10 per cent, was the 
habitual value of money lent on mortgage. Poor 
John Chinaman pays thrice as much in the second half 
of the nineteenth century. But he is a thrifty fellow, 
and seldom becomes bankrupt except from some 
extraordinary pressure of adverse circumstances. He 
never gluts a market, or sends goods to an over- 
stocked province. His correspondence is enormous, 
and he makes Hima^lf acquainted, by letters and by 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



oE e 



joumeyB. wilii tho wanta and i 

of the empire. Then he hoBtenB to load thoae bi >.»u- 
bottomed junks that you may see cravfliag up every 
river and lake, with bamboo-matting sails iind ^aAy 
flags, laden gimwaJe-deep with prociuus bales, and 
bound for the dearest market, one may be sore. The 
Chinaman knowa his art and myitcry welL He has 
anticipated the choicest doctrinra of political economy. 
Save liini from Taiping and pirate, from mandarin 
' squeezoa ' and servile wars, and he will pay hia way, 
M^ pursue his course, tat and content as Dr PangloaB 
bimself, with what is to him the very best M all 
possible worlds. 



BELVIDERE 



1b there any spectacle at once more louchinc and 
more ludicrous than to bear a grown man^and it is 
ftlwrnfa a pretty fuQ-grown one — dilate upon the 
delij^ta of his old School ! He deals, indeed, some- 
what in generalities ; he does not dwell upon the 
domestic care expended upon him at Belvidere House, 
upon the salubrity of ita situntdon, upon the liixari- 
ance of the foliaf^ about its playground, nor on the 
eicellcQce and plenty of ita repaats— all which were 
set forth with such enjpging minuteness in ita pro- 
spectus. He contente himgelf with aaserting broadly 
—with a shake of the head and a sigh— that Pogers's 
(L. C. P.) was a happy place indeed, where he first 
Iinew and loved poor Harry Binks, now dead and 



buried (as 



lough 



the latter circumstance ' 



peculiarly deploratilc), and Harris, and Moore, and 
a score of others, the like of whom he ahall never 
see again. But observe how very little the School 
has really to do with these regretful reraiDiacencca. 
He might just as well bewail the youthful time 
he pused at the PenitentiMy, or the revohing 
hours DOW jniue for ever which he spent with Hany 
Binka and the rest of them upon the patent Tread- 
milL It, however, we look closely into the matter, it 
will be found that the ancient disciples of Belvidere 
House, and other claaaical and commercial establish- 
ments of that ' limited ' nature, are not ao addicted 
to glorifying their seminaries, but leave that aort of 
sentiment, in its more exaggerated form at least, 
to the pnblio-Bchool men. For, as it requires a toler- 
ably sized country (such as Scotland or Switzerland] 
tor the inhabitants to get disagreeably patriotic about 
it, while those of a Uttle strip like the Republic of 
Swn Marino do not venture to go about boasting of 
their ridiculous territory, so it is left to the old Etonian, 
the Harrovian, the Rugueao, and so on, to bewail them- 
Bsives about their nundng-places, while the private- 
school man holils his toneiie, or puts it in his cheek. 

There ia no case in which Distance lends ao much 
enchantment to the view as this of school -enthusiasm. 
We sec our own yonng ones delighted to come home 
for the holidaya, and averse to go back again ; we 
hear them narrate circumstances connected with 
'taggingi,' 'switchings,' 'impositions.' and getttng- 
up-apon-cold-momiuBB, which certainly do not make 
111 envious of becoming subject to them again our- 
■elvea ; we ore poutively informed upon all hands — 
and indeed take a uugnlarly inconsistent pride in 
owning so much — that the proent drawbacks and 
ineonvcniencea of School are yet aa nothing compared 
with those of our own time ; and still we go maun- 
dering on with tears in oar eyes about that blissful 
InttitutiotL Our school tpodi — the palmy days of 



School itself ia to confuse time witJi place. We 
do not believe that one of us out of one hundred 
liked even Eton itaelf. The bullying other boys 
may have had some delights for us. but so had 
not the btiog bullied by them; if the being 'in' 



at cricket was Paradise, the having constantly 
to ' fng out' in the snn without an inninge, 
was as certainly the other place : and though 
picnicking under the umbrageous elma might have 
fjeen very pleasant, a charm was lacking, maamuch 
oa wo had to kindle the fire and boil the eggs for 
the benefit of others— the hoy-tyranta (or whom wo 
' fagged.' Notwithstanding any convictions upon this 
point, however, it beconies ua public- school men, who 
would be respected by our old compauions, to koep 
them to ourselves. As Wiey say in the melodramas, ' We 
must dissemble.' We must not foul our own nests by 
laying a flager upon a single blemish of that hallowed 
semicary of which wo were once an inmate, l'--* 
ainit de fuiyw of this sort, though admirable in ma _ 
reapects, lias also its disadvantages. The bleiniahes 
remain ; for no old disciple ventures to point out 
what is amiss ; and a stranger who takes upon liim 
the thankleaa part of refonner, being sure to err in 
some unimportant matters of detail, is pooh-poohed at 
once. 'Here's an ignoromos,' exclaim the Champions 
oE Let-alone : ' he affects to understand all about us, 
and says that our first school-time is at seven o'clock ; 
when ever nncc the blessed acceauon of Edward VI. 
it has been at half-past six \ ' 

All honour, then, be to Sir John Coleridge,' who, 
public-school man though he bi>, haa ventured to 
point out— tenderly and apologetically enough — some 
of the defects of that syslem. He is himself an 
Etonian, and feels for Eton almost the affection which 
a child entertains for hia parent ; but he is oddresaing 
many who have never even seen that beautiful spot. 

' 'rho situation, the buildings, the park-Iika play- 
grounds favour tiie system. On the bonlu of the 
Thames, where, ot least to EngHah eyes, the river is 
of ample m^nitude, yet with water* pure aa thow 
of the moorhmd brook, winding round the Home 
Park, and beneath the towera of Windsor, the 
CoUm, and it« Hall and Library, its Cbapel and 
School, stauil- a group of bnildinaH imposing in sixe, 
venerable tor ontiijuity, and aingiuariy appropriate in 
their character to the purposes far which they have 
been erected. I cannot hope to convey to those who 
have never seen them a perfect impression of them 
in this respect; perhaps I may say that this fitness 
of character depends on their size, ample, yet not so 
great aa to do away with a certain domestic feel- 
mg; on their great simplicity, which yet escapes any 
approach to meanness ; on Uieir obvious antiquity, 
entirely free from decoy: all suggests a notion of 
something beyond a mere school ; of role and order 
not pedantically sldS; of liberty, yet within the reach 
of wholesome restraint .... The pU^CTOunds skirt 
the river ; and, with ample apace for cricket and foot- 
bidl, they atiU have room for venerable trees, solemn 
avenues, and walks full of etudiona asaociaUons. No 
stranger of ordinary fcehag can see the outside of 
Eton without a feeling of acuniratton that has a char- 
acter of tenderness mixed with it; and when he sees 
the river thickly studded with skiffs and row-boats 
— the cricket-grounds with their playeiB, fleet and 
active, quick-eyed and ready-handed, playing the 
game with the eameatuess of youth and the conduct 
of manhood, hilarious with a winning score, and not 
dejected with a losing one — while among the intent 
spectator! around he perceives here and Uiere a 
master, not amongst the least intent, imposing no 
check on the boys, but animating their exertiims — 
be may well confess that he is beholiliag boyhood 
under ita happiest aspect Well, then, may the old 
Etonian feel Au bosom glow within him.' 

Ah, well indeed I Let Tom Browuiam be rampant 
as it wiU. it movea not us one whit IKs need uo 
eulogy from any man's pen to swell our mustcr- 
rolL At the present WTiting there ate over aght 

• PKblie Sdual Eii4calKn. A LtcIsTF, by Ue UiE>il IlBl- Sit 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



9 



kwndrtd jroutha at this boy-anivenity— many of them 
of the best blood in England ; all of them gentlemen ; 
moat of them destined to be rulers of the land and 
people when they be men. Never, surely, under the 
harsh name of school, existed such a 'glorious place. 

Ab, happy hills — ah, pleasing shade — 

Ah, fields beloved in vain, 
Where once my careless childhood strayed, 

A stranger yet to pain. 
I feel the gales that from ye blow 
A momentary bliss bestow, 

As, waving fresh their gladsome wing, 
My weary soul they seem to soothe, 
And, redolent of joy and youth. 
To breathe a second spring. 

FtareeU Etoncu* But the Latin, alas ! reminds us of 
its Latin verses ! In the Paston Letters, we find that 
so eaiiy as 1478, the custom of versifying in that 
dead langua^ was a part of the Eton system. ' As 
for my conung from Eton,'' writes Master William 
PastoD, * I lack nothing but versifying, which I trust 
to have with a little continuance;' and then, says 
Sir John Coleridge, he adds a miserable couplet, 
boasting, *and these two veraes aforesaid be of my 
own making.* 

But what miserable couplets toe made, and what 
miserable couplets everybody else made, except, 
Xierhaps, Coleridge minor, as Sir John was then, and 
some half-dozen others. Unhappily, no argument 
is ponible with these sticklers for Gradus <m Par- 
nasntm, for they have two ingenious theories, which 
are both unanswerable. First, they affirm, that by 
this borrowing of other people's ideas, and the look- 
ing oat for longs and shorts in that big book, in 
Older to express them in Latin measures, that we 
have imperceptibly benefited. It is impossible to 
contradict thisw It is pleasant to learn that we have 
been benefited by an^rthing; and one might have 
been worse, perhaps, if it haa not been for the Oradtis, 
Secondly, Iney assert that in cultivating Latin verses, 
we have, by some mysterious means, laid the foun- 
dations of all learning, and are now fit to educate 
oursehres. To the pnneBsional student this may be a 
most comforting reflection ; but then how vexy small 
a proportion m the human race do educate tiiem- 
selves, after they have been once emancipated from 
their tutors! 

Then there was the Chapel (the little bell of which 
used almost continuously to be going), ' enriched with 
stained glass,' remarks our author, * and many touch- 
ing mcjmorialL* To this he attributes an excessive 
amoont of advantage. The good old judge has 
surely forgotten his wicked school-days. Many an 
Etonian have we heard ascribe his present disinclina- 
tion for chnroh to his having hadf so very much of 
it while at schooL What are saints' days to Eton 
boys— wiiat they ougfU to be is another question into 
wnich there is no need to enter — that they should 
attend extra and longer services because of them? 
What a nnisance they seemed to be, when we wanted 
to be over the pleasant meadows — trespassing — or on 
the shbunff river! What an unnatural halo does our 
antfaor bdokl shinmiering around every youthful 
head. We were, not such very good boys, at loist in 
oor time; nor, indeed, very bad boys either, although, 
as for iliose chorister-lads, I well remember that it 
was thoa^t excellent fun to mve them nuts, in order 
that their voices should fail uiem during the coming 
poformanoes in the chapeL How a simple fact (» 
this kind — and really not a very distressing one — 
dissipates those misty illusions which even the wisest 
men, in 'their old age, are prone to entertain respect- 
ing their own youth ! Am yet Sir John Coleridgo 



* Our esteemed eontribotor here leems to be himMlf slightly 
o v sr c Bwe wttb that weakneas of lohool fiuoatieltm whioh he fo 
sUraly rtprohatcs tn others. 



has not a word to say against * fagging,' an institu- 
tion which has effected far more ham — although 
kept within more moderate bounds at Eton than 
elsewhere — than can ever be set right by choral 
singing; nor against the system of public flogging, 
practised at Eton, and at Eton only, in a manner 
disgusting and indecent in a very high degree. 

Againrt the present absurdity of electing the masters 
solely from the body of old Etonians — and not long ago 
they were chosen out of King's College, Cambridge, only 
— Sir John is energetic enough; and he is Dold in 
attacking one very crying evil, common to every well- 
filled public school — the madequate number of tutors. 
Every master at Eton is also a tutor, and receives as 
many boarders as he can accommodate into his own 
house. * Each master has his separate class in school, 
and in this there may be few or none of his own 
pupils — these last may be scattered among every class 
in the school ; but over his own pupils, as their tutor, 
he is boimd to exercise a peculiar care in eveir branch 
of their education.' A popular tutor, therefore, like 
the old woman who lived in her shoe, has often so 
many pupils that he does not know what to do vrith 
them, and of necessity does littie or nothing. The 
present average proportion at Eton of boys to tutors 
IS more than/or^ to one! Now, what should we say 
of Pogers (L. C. P.), if he received forty young gentie- 
men at Belvidere House without keeping a single usher 
to help him? Almost all the baa cases of cruelty 
occumng in public schools, and that are made pubUc 
— and they must be very bad to get that length — are 
owing to this paucity of masters, this inadequacy of 
personal supermtendence. The system of Monitors — 
which Eton, however, to her credit, has never adopted 
— that places excessive power in hands necessarily 
unfitted to wield it, arises entirely from this lack. 
Since the constituted authorities are insufficient (and 
since to get more would be unsatisfactory to those 
existing, for certain pecuniary reasons which it would 
be vulgar to speak about), amateur masters — Monitors 
— are appointed in many public schools, selected from 
the boys then:isclves. An increase of tutors is some- 
times aenied, even upon the groimd that the Statutes 
of the Schocl contemplated no such innovation, but 
the sticklers for vested intereste must indeed be sore 
put to it before they adopt that line of defence. Sir 
John's eye must have slyly twinkled when, with rela- 
tion to tins subject, he quotes one of the Eton statotes 
by which the Head and Lower Masters are bound 
to teach all who come from any part of England for 
noUiing at all: 'gratis, absoue pecuniee aut alterius 
rei exactione.' And it woula be a very pleasant sight 
to see them at it. 

Eleven-twelfths of the present school — ^that is to 
say, the whole of the Oppidans — were never contem- 
plated in the founder's scheme at alL Only seventy 
Eton boys — familiarly termed, in our time, * Tugs ' or 
'Tugmuttons,' from the circumstance of that food 
being placed, with a too great frequency, upon their 
conunon table — are ' upon tiie foundation,' or 
entitled in any way to share its privileges ; and 
these, to say truth, are held socially in some con- 
tempt by the others, who are, of course, the richer, 
though not necessarily the better-bom. Yet observe 
how these poor young gentiemen win all the educa- 
tional prizes ! The I^^wcastie scholaiahip and Medal 
has existed thirty-two years, to be cont^ded for by 
the entire schooL * In tne first twelve there were ten 
Oppidan scholars to two Collegers, and six Medallists 
to SIX. In the next ten years tiaere were four Oppidan 
scholars to six, and seven Medallists to five. In the 
last ten there were three Ompidan scholars to nine, 
and three Medallists to nine. Considering the immense 
superiority of numbers of Oppidans to Collegers, and 
that the former have the advantage of being, if they 
please, private pupils, which is denied to the latter, 
this difference of numbers is remarkable ; but the 
gradual decrease of the successful Oppidans, in later 



10 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



yean reaching almost to their extinction, ia a still 
more significant £act.' Sir John Coleridge cannot 
tmderstand why tlus should be, and yet it seems to us 

lite easy of solution. The Collegers work, and the 

>pidans don't work ; and for the simplest reason. 

le former know they have need to do so, being poor 
men's sons ; and the latter know they have no need. 
As to lads, who are as forty to one to their masters, 
being made to work, it is sin^)le impossibility, nor 
indeed is it ever attempted ; and it must be remem- 
bo^ that at almost all other public schools where 
Collegers exist at all, a similar disproportion exists 
between them and the Oppidans as at £ton ; while 
the majority of public schools are composed entirely 
of Oppidans. The instances of * bodily frames not yet 
matured,' which have broken down under the labour 
of school-work at Eton, must have happened — if 
they ever did happen — among the Collegers. We are 
sceptical about even that matter ; although there may 
have been un pleasantries about 'Tug' life, even in 
the way of hard study, as there most certainly were 
in the experiences ot that * Long Chamber,' where 
there were about five fags to sixty-five masters, and 
which was not a place to identify with the Elysian 
Fields in any respect. We enjoyed ourselves at Eton 
very much — though by no means so much as at home 
during the hoUdays — but we have no recollection of 
anythmg approaching hard work, even at that Latin 
and Greek which was the only literary pabidum in 
those days set before us. Now, it seems, there are no 
less than three boon of the vxek devoted to mathe- 
matics ; or a full half hour per diem ! 

In a word, whatever may be said about their supe- 
riority in other respects, we cannot believe that public 
schools are the best places for intellectual education. 
It is scarcely possime, with their small amoimt of 
school-hours, their limited supply of masters, and the 
extent of their actual vacations, that they should 
compete in this respect with private establishments, 
where lads work very much hxurder, and are far more 
closely looked after. If a boy is to make his own way 
in the world, and has little beyond his mental faculties 
to trust to, it certainly seems more reasonable to send 
him to Belvidere House, if that establishment have a 
tolerable character, than to an expensive pubhc schooL 
It is true, that lads in such a pli^t are sometimes 
sent to Eton and elsewhere to ootam * a good connec- 
tion,' with a view of hitching themselves on, that is, 
to others in a superior station. But, setting aside the 
cruelty of thus making boys into toadies and tuft- 
hunters before their time, and the *snobbiBm' of the 
wh<de transaction, such unequal friendships do not 
stand the wear and tear of life; they rarely last 
beyond adolescence. 

It is unfair to Belvidere House to point to the dis- 
tinguished names at the universities — although it holds 
its own, and something more, even there — because the 
great majority of pubUc-school lads go to college as a 
matter of course, while with those at private schools it 
is not so ; still less justly can we ooast of public- 
school men being stars of parliament, or leading men 
in power, since, as boys, thev were, by birth and posi- 
tion, already half-wav to the great^ social prizes; 
while the lads more numbly educated, in accordance 
with their humbler station, have to go double the 
distance — and the most difficult part of the road is 
that first half — ^to obtain them. If they started fair, we 
have no doubt but that the young gentleman with his 
head full of Latin verses would lag behind the other 
(of equal powers), who has receiv^ a more general, 
although not necessarily a superficial education. We 
have known an Etonian to be a by no means despi- 
cable classic, and yet to be quite unable to spell, or 
to inform you in what the Reformation in England 
differed from the Revolution. 

We are far from intending disr^pect either to public 
schools or classical education. They effect, at Eton 
at all events, the very thing? which, considering the 



fine material they have got to deal with, it is desirable 
that they should da Tney turn out better cricketers, 
foot- bail players, and oarsmen than private schools 
can da They produce healthier and higher-spirited 
young men. Not only in mere behaviour and 
* deportment * do they turn boys into gentlemen, but 
their tone is often so high and manly, that it even 
supplies the gentlemanly feelings that are sometimes 
lacking. There is generally neither pertness (except 
in the case of monitors) nor mauvaise lionte about 
public -school men, and they are fitted to mix in any 
society, with a polite independence, which Belvidere 
House for the most part fails to impart These are 
surely no mean advantages. Let, then, the admirers 
of public schools be content, even if in addition to 
ruder health, better manners, and happiness in greater 
proportion than is found in private seminaries, they 
fail to impart an education so well fitted for the 
ordinary walks of life. Each system has its excellen- 
ces and its faults ; each is adapted for its own class 
of disciples. That would be an evil day for the Upper 
Ten Thousand of England, on which Eton and her 
sister-seminaries were abolished; but, on the other 
hand, science and commerce would languish sadly 
from the hour when all our middle classes were 
forced to send their sons to public schools. 

LOVE AMONG THE LILIES. 

Lkx a prisoned poet inscribing eloquent odes to 
Liberty, Maria van Oosterwyck, pent in Uie centre 
of grim old frowning Delft, strove passionately to fix 
upon her canvas the glorious flowers and fruits of a 
far-off country, from which the town's every canal, 
lock, street, wall, and rampart combined to sunder 
her. By aid of memory, scrap-sketches made on 
hurried visits beyond .the gates, and cut flowers 
sickening and dying as she drew them, the pale 
eamest-Kx>king lady worked on. With quite a lily's 
whiteness in ner face, and fair waving hair, that 
seemed sprinkled with the gold-dust from the lily's 
cup, pushed back carelessly, so as not to hinder her, 
and m sober dark woollen dress, only reheved by 
the large plaited-mnslin ruff collar, Maria bent her 
lithe fragile figure before her easel ; poring over one 
of those small cabinet paintings whose trans(iarent 
colour, refined taste, and delicate mechanism, shall 
make them, years and years after thou art dust, 
Maria van Oosterwyck, cherished possessions even 
in the choicest collections. She loved her flowers; 
she loved her art; for these she was content to 
spend her life : it was no toil, at least it was a toil 
free from irksomeness, and full of joy, to be true to 
such love as this. Over her canvas, the flowers at 
her side, studying the wondrous variety of their 
hues, tracing their every exquisite curve, and change, 
and diversi^, till she could almost deem that in their 
marvellous sei>arate loveliness dwelt an individual 
soul, Maria could well forget the cloomy surround- 
ings of her studio. It was not a pleasant abode for 
an artist, and least of all for a flower-artist That 
murky shadow on the wall is the reflection flung 
there by the sun, sinking in a Dutch fos, of the 
church tower which shelters the remains of William 
Prince of Orange, murdered close by, on a summer's 
day in 1584, by Balthazar Grerard the Burgundian; 
that mist upon the window rises from the narrow 
stagnant poisonous canal below; that smoke beat- 
ing away in circling clouds comes from the pottery 
manufactories — for are we not just midway in tbie 
seventeenth century — and must not the great demand 
for Delft earthenware be met in thorough commercial 
spirit ? True, there are trees edmng the canals ; but 
no wonder they have lost all ch^m for Maria ; no 
wonder she can look wyon them with eyes of pity 
only ; they are trimmed, and cut, and clipped mto 
fanciful shapes, in execrable Dutch taste ! Heartless 
mutilation of natural loveliness; one might as well 



CHAMBBRS'S JOURNAL. 



11 



look for hnmaa beantj in a aoldieT^s hospital after a 
battle. 

Through the mist, throufih the smoke and the 
shadow, and over the trees, were were eyes searching 
ont the light form of Maria van Oosterwyck in her 
studio ; and these — ^y, bright, pleasant-looking eves 
enough — ^were iized m the head of Wilhehn van Aalst, 
a painter aim, and a denizen of Delft, whose studio is 
exiactiy opposite to Maria's, on the other side of the 
street He has set up his easel, and has work before 
him — a clever enough artist, painting still-life subjects 
dexterously, and in good repute for his dead game, 
scraps of armour, and gold and silver cups. But not 
a rerv sedulous worker ; unable to devote himself to 
his labours, unable to forget — as the genuine student 
ever does — ^that there is a world going on outside his 
studio walls. Half-a-dosen touches, and he looks out 
of the window, down the street towards the market- 
place, or over the way at Maria ; then another few 
touches, and a look in the glass at his own handsome 
&ce, and a twirling of his moustache, a pulling at his 
beard, or a tossing about of his long thick chestnut 
locks. He makes up his mind at last; and perhaps 
he hasn*t much to operate upon, for that matter. He 
flings away his pallet and brushes, arrays himself 
in a handsome velvet doublet, blue with narrow silver 
edcing, dons a hat and feather, buckles on his rapier, 
and struts from his studia No more work for to-day. 
He will pay visits ; it is really quite a long time since 
he has seen his friends — twelve hours or so — he will 
call on Maria van Oosterwyck, and see how her lilies 
are getting on, and then he will dine — well, perhaps 
at the Golden Calf round the comer, and finish the 
evening there. 

Absorbed in her lilies, her thin white hand sup- 
ported by her mahl-stick, with the smallest, finest 
brush ever seen, defining hair-lines of light upon the 
onter rims of the flowers, Maria heard not the knock 
at her door-- heard not the step upon the floor — knew 
not that any one had entered the room — was lost to 
all but her art, until a hand was laid gently upon 
her arm, and a voice murmured, accenting tenderly : 
* Incomparable Maria ! ' 

She started up with quite a little scream, paler than 
ever, and her soft blue eyes open wide with alarm, 
like flowers beaten by a storm. She was a lovely 
specimen of the thorough blonde, flaxen even to eye- 
brows and eyelashes — a very human lily herself, so 
pure, and delicate, and lovable-looking. 

' You frightened me, Wilhelm,* she said, her first 
surprise a little passed off, and with just the slightest 
tone of reproval traceable in her voice. She was about 
to give her hand with the brush in it, but a glance at 
Wilnelm's gay doublet, and the thought of however 
80 little a streak of cream- white would soil it, stopped 
her. 

'EnthnsiaBt !' Wilhehn wtot on — ' devotee f you 
have no thought but for this ! ' and he pointed to 
tiie panel on the easeL 

*lait& fault ?' she asked. 

' No ; but it is a reproach to the less devout.' 

• To yourself, then f Wilhelm, when will you work ? 
When will you cleave to your easel, and be loath and 
sick at heart to leave it ? So you have quitted work 
for to-day, and there remain five more good hours of 
dayhght!* 

Wuhelm blushed. He was a little crest-fallen at 
his reception. Had the bhie velvet and the silver 
edging so small effect as this ? 

* I nave nearly finished the picture of the dead 
fiJooQ and the jewelled goblet.* 

Maria shook her head sorrowingly. 

'YoQ have not finished as you should finish it, 
Wilhehn. You may leave off work — you may let 
it go from your easel — you may barter it for a ^ood 
price — bat you will yet know in your heart that it is 
not a work such as should bear the name of Van 
AakL Why will you paint only for to-day, for the 



present hour, to supply your mere needs, and heed 
tor nothing else ? You must wish to live, Wilhelm, 
to be something in the future, to have 3rour name 
honoured, and your works cherished. You owe this 
to yourself. Paint fewer pictures, and work more.' 
' I have not your talent, gentle Maria.* 
' You have more than my poor talent, Wilhelm, a 
thousand times. With nil my labour, pouring ont 
my life at the foot of my eaisel, I know I cannot 
approach the genius yon possess, if yon wonld but 
render it justice.* 

* I have not your devotion, Maria.' 

* You loved your art once, Wilhehn ; you had higih, 
grand thoughts about it once.' 

* Boyish dreams.* 

' They might have been the facts of your manhood, 
had you chosen so, good friend.' 

It was hard upon him — who had come to create a 
sensation, to win the admiration of the fair enthusiast 
— to meet so chilly a welcome, such a lecture upon 
his shortcomings. Maria herself began to thinlr go 
at length, and changed the subjects 

' Do you like my lilies ?* 

'They are exquisite, they are inimitable — ^full of 
your own grace, and subtlety, and expression. Yon 
have nearly completed them.* 

* No, there remains much to do. See, these leaves 
are hardly touched ; this bud is mere raw colour.* 

There was a pause. He looked from the panel to 
her. Standing so humbly and gently before a most 
marvellous effort of painting, how coidd he help 
great admiration and love pcwsessing his heart ? How 
could he hinder them from s^mrkTing in his hand- 
some eyes? His one hand rested on his hip, the 
other toyed gracefully with the silver tassels of his 
cloak. He was in his most winning attitude. Maria 
looked up at him innocently, read something of his 
thoughts in his face, and then turned away, a little 
frightened, perhajis. 

*You remember,* he said, at length, in his most 
musical voice — * you remember, Maria, my first coining 
here? — ^my assumed bearing, my affecting to be a 
dealer, come to purchase your works, when my real 
aim was to see you, to become acquainted with you ?* 

* It was a trick, Wilhelm, a shameful trick ; ' and 
she moved away h-om him. 

* It was fair, for 1 loved you.' 

She put }ier hand to her heart, as though she had 
been struck there. She could not speak, but she 
waved her hand, by her gesture imploring him to 
desist 

* I loved you then, Maria, and from that day I have 
loved you more and more. If I have neglected my 
art, as you say, may not love bo my excuse ? Let 
that plead for me. Do not jud^ me too harshly.* 

She heard him like one in i>ain, trembling, and with 
closed, quivering eyes. He was about to continue; 
she placed her hand j;ently upon his. 

* Cease, Wilhelm, I entreat of you.' 

'You don't love me, Maria?' The question was so 
musically, wilingly, fervidly breathed, it was almost 
irresistible. For some moments, Maria could not 
speak. Her breath came and went so hurriedly, and 
sne trembled sa 

* I dare not ' — in a low broken whisper. 

*You doubt me?' She bowed her head aflinn- 
atively, and to hide her blushes and her tears. 

Wiihelm had had Uttle experience in failure. He 
was puzzled, amazed. Could it be that his love was 
rejected? He was about to break out into expos- 
tulations, into passionate oaths and entreaties ; but a 
look from Mana stopped him. 

* You, who are false to art, can I hope that yon 
will be true to me ?' 

* But I love you.' 

* You loved art once, Wilhelm : you neglect it now.* 
' But I will never neglect you, dearest. I swear it.' 
'False in one, false in alL* 



12 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



* Maria, this is cruelty.' 

*Let it be so, Wilhelm, and let us part. Leave me 
to my IQies ; they can never be to me less good, and 
pure, and true. I cannot quit them, to give my troth 
to one who may one day turn from me, his love fallen 
from him like a withered leaf. If I surrendered 
them, Wilhelm, for you, and the time should come, as 
it would, doubt not, when you would cease to love 
me — when I should be to you a poor frail woman, 
charmless, lustreless— I could not Dear it Wilhelm, 
it would be death.* 

* But this is a nightmare, darling ; it never shall be 
truth. I love you; I love art; I have never ceased 
to love art. I will always love you both.' 

But Maria only shook her head sadly, murmuring : 
' False in one, false in alL' 

*But try me. These are not mei"e words — idle, 
vain : test them ; they will bear it.' 

She looked at him earnestly ; there seemed honesty 
in his face and in his speech. 

* First, then : You will be true to art.' 

* I swear it' 

* You will work honestly ; you will be at your easel 
for six hours a day at least, continuously; painting 
scrupulously, rendering faithful account of the objecte 
you paint, as they seem to you; not trickily, or to 
produce rapidly, or to sell quickly. You will shun 
low company; you will not be seen with Heil, or 
Brocken, or Vander Noove. You will avoid the 
Golden Calf ; you will cease to make Delft ring 
with your dissipations. You hear me, Wilhelm ?' 

' I will do all this, Maria.' 

' And for six months — mark that ; you will do all 
this for six months.' 

* I may see vou the while, may I not ? 

' No, Wilheun ; it is better not ; it is better not, for 
both our sakes. At the end of six months, come to 
me. Tell me you have done all this faithfully ; tell 
me you have been true to yourself — to art — to me. 
Tell me that you love art truly, and as you love art, 
love me.' 

* And if I do this, you * 

She gave him a httle white hand. He pressed it 
passionately to his lips. 

* You are mine, Maria ! ' 

' Six months have yet to pass, Wilhelm.' 
He hardly heard her; he was dashing down the 
stairs mad with joy, and hope, and love. In five 
minutes, his blue doublet was off^ and he was hard at 
work before his easel 

The poor lily-lady, pressing her hands upon her 
head, was too shaken and bewildered to resume her 
pencU immediately. Soon, however, she turned 
towards her flowers, exclaiming with passion : ' True 
or false, my lilies, I cannot love you less. I am 
still yours, and you will still be mine ! ' 

There was a thick crust of snow upon all the cable- 
roofs of Delft ; the canals were frozen ; thick ice 
blocked. up the river. The six months had passed. 
Maria was still at her easel. There were no hlies to 
be had now, only those upon her panel, perfected ; so 
close were they to nature, it seemed not possible to 
carry imitation further. She was employed in paint- 
ing a folded drapery of stamped puce-coloured velvet, 
the background of her picture. She seemed paler 
than ever now, and an air of fatigue and suffering 
haunted her face ; yet she worked on in her ola 
placid, simple, hearty way; the tiny pencils moved 
to and fro as steadily and perseveringly as ever. 

'Six months to-day,' she murmuj^ once, hfl-lt^^g 
but for a moment, only to resume again with a 
redoubled energy. But a step on the stairs soon set 
her hand trembling and her heart beating. She was 
compelled to desist Wilhelm entered splendidly 
hanosome in green. velvet, with a thick studding of 
■mall gold buttons, a sweeping white featiier in his 
hat, a glittering sword-belt^ and heavy fur-trimming 



on his cloak. There was a triiunphant flush upon his 
face as he walked rapidly towards Maria. 

* You have come, then, Wilhelm,' she said. 

* To claim fulfilment of your promise, dearest' 

She fixed her glance earnestly upon his face, gazing 
into his eyes, as though to read the truth in them. 

*You have fulfilled your promise, Wilhelm; you 
have been true to art ; you have worked sedulously, 
for six hours a day at least, uninterruptedly without 
quitting your studio ; you have shunned low company 
and the tavern ; you nave been true to yourself and 
tome?' 

Wilhelm bowed his glossy head affirmatively before 
her. He looked very superb indeed. Maria turned 
away her glance; she was shivering with nervous 
agitation — not cold, as he thought 

' And I may trust my happiness to your keeping ?' 
she continue<l, still looking down. 

* Dearest Maria, I swear that you shall never repent 
so doinff.' 

And ne twirled the ends of his ample moustache, 
and dusted his beard with a broidered kerchief, which, 
tucked in his doublet, had been adding to the curve 
of his massive chest 

Maria started back from him, and an angry light 

f;leamed in the blue eyes wontedly so soft and gentle, 
t was like forked lightning breaking out suddenly on 
a calm summer sky. 

'Wilhelm, you woidd scorn to play with cogged 
dice ; you would beat to the earth any one who said 
you tricked at cards ; you would condescend to dupe 
no man. Why, then, do you come here to me with a 
lie upon your lips ? — why seek to cheat me ? What 
have I ever done that you should turn against me 
thus ? Is it because I am weak, and a woman, that 
I am to be treated wiih falsehoods — won by fraud?' 

Wilhelm, amazed, puzzled, embarrassed, looked at 
her. He put forth his hand imploringly ; he sought 
to speak ; she waved back his approaches by an angry 
gesture. You would not have thought such fury 
could have possessed her. The lily was whirling in a 
tempest 

* 1 ou know that you have broken every letter of 
your promise ; you know that your every act of late 
has been a falsehood to me ; you know that I dare 
not confide my happiness in your hands ; that you are 
utterly unworthy such a trust This is nothing. You 
have a ri^ht to act as you wilL To stain your name, 
your gemus, your art, with mire, if you will ; it is not 
for me to call for an account But to act thus shame- 
fully, and crown that shame by a lie, to me, to me, 
who, God knows, never would or could have done you 
wrong — Wilhelm, Wilhelm, it is too much ! * 

There were tears now upon her cheeks, like rain- 
drops on a lily. 

Wilhelm stood speechless, abashed, and angry. His 
position was humiliating enough — ^to cheat, and to be 
found out too ! Yet he tried to pluck up heiu*t ; and 
sturdy lying seemed his safest course — so his weak 
false mind suggested. 

* You wrong me, indeed, indeed.' 

' Stop ! ' she crieid, putting her hands to her ean to 
shut out his words. ' T^o more ; you have lied enough. 
Look here ! ' and she pointed to the window-post : there 
were hundreds of streaks of lily white. *^ach' time 
you have failed in your promise, I have registered the 
failure here. You have oeen absent from your studio ; 
you have been idle; you have been gaping at the 
window, or idling at the door ; you have spent days 
and nights at the Golden Calf. Heil has been with 
you, and Brocken, and Vander Noove, and — O Wilhelm 
— others who never should have been ! ' — and a blush 
crossed her cheek ; it was as a sunset on a lily — 
I and you have painted worthless pictures. You know 
it — none better. Oh, in a thousand ways, you have 
been false ; and here, see, here's the record.' 

In Wilhelm's culprit face, 'midst all his shame and 
confusion, yet lingered an intenx^gative : * How did 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



13 



yon know all this ?' She read it in his looks, without 
needing his words. 

*My studio is opposite to yours; I can see you 
from here as well as you can see me from there.' 

' Tet your hack was always turned 7' 

She could not help smiling, it was such a wretched, 
pitiful, school-boy plea. 

• You forgot the mirror ! With that in front of me, 
I had no need to turn.' 

Wilhelm stamped on the ground with ra^ and 
disappointment, cursing a thousand times his own 
stupidity. 

* Adieu! Maria van Ooeterwyck.* 

• Adieu ! Wilhelm van Aalst* 

Utteriy crushed and mortified, he moved to the 
door. Inhere he stood for a moment, rallied a little, 
and with a feeble broken swag^r, with an attempt to 
conjure back something of ms old grand manner, 
whispered softly : * And there is no hope, Maria ?* 

* None ! ' said the lady stoutly. She was deaf to the 
voice of the charmer, and he went out bauj^g the 
door, never to return. The poor girl, her trial over, 
broke down completely; she fell into a ch^, weeping 
copiously. 

' Heaven help me I And I so loved that man I ' 

With a strange curiosity and weakness, she sent her 
servant on the following morning to make inquiry 
conoemmg him. She learned tlutt he had quitted 
Delft ; it was said for ever. Paris was thought to 
be his destination. Then Maria was on her knees 
once more before her panel : * O my lilies ! I am 
yours iot ever — only yours. I will love but you.' 

And she kept her word, devoting herse^ to her 
art, and glorifying it by her devotion. And Eturope 
«tmgcled for possession of her works ; not nimierous, 
but aU perfect. And Emperor Leopold, and Louis the 
Magnificent, and England's great monarch, William of 
Orange — all bought from her easeL 

In 1093, she painted her last lily — never having 
seen again the faithless Wilhelm— never having loved 
again — still Maria van Oosterwyck. 

A POULTRY SHOW. 

AvAUNT, all ye featherleas bipeds, to whom poultry is 
suggestive of spread-ea^e, pigeon, of pie, and rabbit, of 
fricassee ; we have nothing for yon to eat ! Our poultry 
is not plucked, our pigeons are raiy with' plumage, and 
our rabbits wear their skins. They have been under- 
going a competitive examination at the Crystal Palace, 
and nave given great satisfaction, which is more thim 
can be said for candidates in general, to their several 
examiners. Nevertheless, they may be said to have 
been crammed for their examination, and to be argu- 
ments in favour of the universally condemned cram- 
ming fljrvtem. It is true that they were subjected to 
a course of something more substantial than arith- 
metic, mere nourishing than geography, more fatten- 
ing than mathematics ; but emi. tiieir progress reflects 
great credit upon those under whose filtering care 
they pursued their studies; and very distinguished 
tntom wad governesses some of them appear to have 
had— Bight Honourable Earls, and Most Honourable 
MttrchkmesBes, and Lady Julias ; and plain (and very 
likely pcetty) Mistresses, and Misses, and Honourable 
Mistsn ; and Esquires by right, and Esc^uires by cour- 
tesy ; and Majors, and Captains, and simple Misters. 
Wnai code. wouldn't crow at the bidding of an earl? 
What hen wouldn't cackle at the sight of a mar- 
ebionesa? What chicken wouldn't faUen under the 
glance of Lady Julia ? What pigeon wouldn't thrive 
under the tutelage of a major? VThat rabbit's ears 
wofokLa't lengthen imdcr the drilling of a captain? 
We were not surprised, therefore, at the triumphant 
coelL-ardoodle-doos, and the impertinent clucks of the 
fowls, as we inspected their several pens ; we under- 
stood, perfectly the strut of the pigeons, and tiie 
impcrtiirbable self-possession of the rabbits. There 



were no fewer than 704 candidates entered, though 
they did not all come to the scrateh — the pupils of not 
less than 224 ladies and gentlemen. There were five 
examiners, of whom two were professors of poultry, 
two professors of pigeonry, and three professors of rab- 
bitry. The competitors were divided into 104 classes, 
43 consisting of jMultry, 52 of pigeons, and 9 of rabbits. 
The candidates in the 43d class of poultry, and in all 
the classes of pigeons and rabbits, were allowed to be 
of any age — ^though we thought it a pity to idlow any 
of them to grow to toughness — but in the other ^ 
classes, they were obli^d to be chickens of 1860. 
Seeing, therefore, the short time which had elapsed 
since their egg-hood, we could not but be astonished 
and edified at the immense progress which they had 
made. We are not aware of the precise age at which 
chickens arc considered patmis^ but there was a very 
edible appearance about all but the cocks and the 
ganders. 

The first three classes of poidtry were what are 
called Spanish chickens ; the next four, Dorking ; tiie 
four after these, Cochin- China. Then came two classes 
of Brahmapootras ; after them, five of Game Fowls ; 
three of Gold or Silver Pencilled Hamburgs ; three 
of Gold or Silver Spangled Hambium Classes 25, 26, 
27t and 28 were nllea by Polish Fowl, whereof the 
cocks wore mops instead of combs by way of head- 
dress ; 29 consisted of Malays ; 30 of other district 
breeds, as Crbvecoeur, Black Hamburg, Andalucian, 
and Cuckoo Cochin-China ; 31, 32, 33, 34, and 35 of 
spiteful-looking Bantams ; 36 and 37 of our relatives 
the Geese, both White, Gray, and Mottled; 38, 
39, and 40 of Ducks and Drakes; 41 of Turkeys 
or Gobblecocks; and 42 should have consisted of 
Guinea-fowl, but we didn't observe any, and therefore 
put them down as ' absent.' 

The Fowls underwent at the hands of the pro- 
fessors a severe examination in 'high condition,' 
'quality,' 'beauty of plumage,' 'uniformity in the 
markings,' * combs,' and * weight* The Spanish were 
declared to be not up to the average of former years : 
this we attribute to an overweening confidence in 
their own powers, upon the part especiaUy of the 
cocks; we particularly noticed one which evidently 
held the same views with respect to the rising of the 
sun as Mrs Peyser's famous oird. They muirt recol- 
lect that, without due attention to the regula- 
tions which their tutors and governesses have laid 
down for their ^dance, and without a tittle of the 
difi&dence so suitable to their tender age, they can 
hardly expect to attain excellence. We recommend 
to their notice and imitation the dignified demeanour, 
and proper regard for his feathers, displayed bv tiie 
White Dorking cock, which, in company with its 
two kin pullets, won the second prize m Class 6. It 
is true tnat tins cock had been under the care of a 
reverend gentleman, and had therefore the advanta^ 
of a reUgious education ; but this is by no means indis- 
pensable for the proper development of chickenhood. 
The Cochin-Chinas were highly complimented by the 
examiners, as were also the IBrahmapootras, and wo 
have no reason to doubt that the honour was deserved. 
Still we must plead guilty to a strong prejudice i^ainst 
Cochin-Chinas ; their personal appearance is by no 
means prepossessing, more especially when they are of 
a cinnamon or buff hue : both in colour and in atti- 
tude they then remind us (when they throw up their 
heads) of a feathered giraffe vrith his front legs cut 
off. There always appears to be something the matter 
with their tails; they are decidedly knock-kneed; 
the feathers on their drumsticks have no business 
there, and look as though they were stuck on with 
mucilage ; their cock-a-doodle-doo is hoarse and 
discordant ; the flavour of the hen's eggs is certainly 
roughish, and the chicken's leg we had for dinner 
one day was toughish. The commendations bestowed 
upon the GameFowls we hereby beg to endorse, and 
at the same time to express our opinion that, in the 



14 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



event of distiirlMuices arising between Cochin-China 
chickens and the Game Fowls of this oountiy, the 
superior qualities evinced by the latter will achieve 
for them the mastery. Gold-laced and silver-laced 
Kftnt^wm were a novelty to us in point of nomen- 
dature : we had heard of gold-Uced and silver-laoed 
ooats and waistcoats and hats, but gold-laced and 
silver-laced birds we had not in our vocabulary : how- 
ever, we were very gUd to see them ; they acquitted 
themselves admirably, and went through tiieir evolu- 
tions with remarkable elegance. The same may be 
said of their white and black, and mixed cousins ; and 
we were not at all surprised to find that the tiunily 
group in No. 264 was * highly conmiended* by the 
examiners. They also, like the well-behaved Dorking 
cock to which allusion has already been made, were 
brought up in a clergyman's household, and conse- 

?[uently observed the strictest propriety. The Polish 
owls elicited the loud approbation both of the 
examiners and the visitors; there was a soberness 
about iJieir black and silver plumage peculiarly 
appropriate to exiles ; their 'mops* were dishevelled 
ana gray before their time; a touching melancholy 
was m their glance, and they shook their heads in 
a mournful way, as though they knew what happened 
*when Kosciusko fell.' The geese were welcomed 
fraternally, and lauded abundantly. Two Sebastopol 
geese, who were present, not for competition, but out 
of curiosity, were very much admired; and it was 
maintained that, had they chosen to become candi- 
dates, they would, on measurement, have turned out 
greater geese than any of the £nglish present. The 
size of the Aylesbury ducks was a proof of the 
attention paid by their trainer to the physical wants 
of his pupils ; and a lady in our neighbourhood, for- 
getful of stereotyped femininities, declared them to 
be not * little ducks,' but * great ducks.' The solem- 
nity, too, with which they reiterated their 'quack, 
quack,' was hijdily edifying, and evinced a philosophical 
qnrit. The Turkeys, moreover, behaved extremely 
well, and betrayed no signs of temper when subjected 
to the ordeal of a red handkerchieL 

The first two classes of the Pigeons were formed 
from the families of Pouters and Croppers ; the third 
and fourth, from the indefatigable race of Carriers ; 
the fifth, ^m the rein^sentatives of tiie Almond 
Tumblers; the sixth and seventh, from the noted 
Dragons ; the eighth, ninth, and tenth, from the 
Stkort-ituxd Motues; the eleventh, twelfth, thir- 
teenth, and fourteenth, from the Short-faced Bald- 
heads (the fifteenth was * absent ') ; the sixteenth, 
■eventeenth, eighteenth, nineteenth, and twentieth, 
from the Short-faced Beards ; the twentieth, twenty- 
first, twenty-second, twenty-third, twenty-fourth, and 
twenty-fifth (vrith the exception of the twenty-fourth, 
which had no members present), from the Short-faced 
Tumblers ; the twenty-sixth, twenty-seventh, and 
twenty-eighth, from the Jacolnnes ; the twenty-ninth, 
thirtieth, Uiirty -first, and thirty-second, from the Owls ; 
tiie thirty-third, thirty-fourth, and thirty-fifth, &om the 
pensive Nuns ; the thirty-sixth, thirty-seventh, thirtv- 
ei^th, and thirty-ninth, from the Turbits ; the fortieth, 
forty-first, and forty-second, from the expansive Fan- 
tails; the forty-tlurd, forty-fourth, forty-fifth, and 
forty-sixth, from the Barbs ; the forty-sevenl^ forty- 
eighth, and forty-ninth, from the Magpies; the 
finieth, from the Tnimpeters; and the fifty-first 
and fifty-second, &om Spanish and Lechom Kunts. 
We have the authority of the examiners for declaring, 
that the fifty-first was ' an extraordinary good class,' 
and the fifty-second 'a very interesting class;' 
whilst classes three and four were pronoimced ' very 
excellent classes ; ' and we hope that the commenda- 
tions of the examiners will encourage the Most Hon. 
Marchioness and others commended to persevere in 
uromoting the great cause of education amongst the 
fowls of the air; for, doubtless, a well-emicated 
pigeon is plumper thui one whose education has 



been neglected. We are sorry that, in the discharge 
of a public duty, we are reluctantly comjielled to 
announce that it seemed good to the examiners to 
withhold the third prize from the first class, the 
single pri^e from the tenth, from the thirteenth, and 
from the sixteenth. We hope this public exposure will 
be a warning to Pouters and Croppers, to the yellow 
Short-faced Mottles, and to the red Short-faced Bald- 
heads, and will also excite the ladies and gentlemen 
whose province it is in this life to exercise their talents 
in the bringing up of young pigeons, to renewed 
exertions, remembering the awful resixmsibUity which 
they incur if, by their fault, a single pigeon be a 
fraction below prize-weight. Everything which is 
worth doing, is worth doin^ well ; if, then, the fatten- 
ing of AwimnJa be worth doing (which we by no means 
assert), by all means fatten them welL Attendance 
upon the pigeon-examination did not impress us with 
any very high notions of the intellectual powers of 
that bird : it is apparently a very amiable and affec- 
tionate creature, but, except when undergoing the 
process of examination in the hands (literally) of the 
professors, it spent its time in strutting up and down, 
cooing very softly, and inserting its beak into the 
beaks of its brethren. It seemed vain of its gorgeous 
plumage, and we were rather shocked to see Nuns 
fianntmg in red, yellow, and blue. The Carriers had, 
as they should have, the most work-day appearance, 
but were as usual disfigured by hu^ waurts upon their 
noses. The Jcocobines looked nice httle things (to eat), 
but a guinea a head is rather expensive, ana we didn't 
observe any under. One young gentleman, a trainer 
of pigeons, had the conscience to ask L.50 fen* each of 
his — this is almost as good as L-IOOO for a cock and 
two pullets — but the price, be it known, is fancy ; for 
the competitors are hable to be sold into slavery or 
cookery, should any visitor take a liking to them, and 
the high prices are put on lest a himgry spectator 
should long for savoury meat. 

To proceed to the Rabbits. The first class was a 
collection of candidates for prizes on the ground of 
long cars ; the second was composed of black and 
white specimens ; the third, of yellow and white ; the 
fourth, of tortoise-shell ; the fifth, of blue and white ; 
the sixth, of gray and white; the seventh, of self- 
colour; the eighth were examined in weight; and 
the ninth consisted of foreign rabbits — Himalajraa, 
Chinchillaa, Angoras, and Chinas. What decided 
the prize in the last class, we are not able to state ; 
whether climate or distance, or peculiarity of name, 
or singularity of shape, we did not find out, but we 
rather suppose that a combination of weight, colour, 
and length of ear was looked for; at anyrate, a 
Chinchilm won the first prize, and a Himalaya buck 
and doe were jointly found worthy of the second. 
As we have said, the first class boasted of the length 
of their ears ; and so long were the ears of those who 
gained the prizes, that it was a wonder the owners 
didn't get taripped up by them in their perambula- 
tions. The prizes for weight were conferred upon 
two does, each twelve montns old — one being gray in 
colour, the other white and yellow. Their J4>petites 
were considered very praiseworthy, and the myod use 
they had made of their gastric-juices met wiui much 
approval The other closes were placed, not accord- 
ing to meritorious feeding, but according to their 
natural gifts of colour. A tabby stood no chance here ; 
in black and white, the bucks were triumphant; in 
yellow and white, a buck was first, and a doe second ; 
m tortoise-shell, the docs had it all their own way ; 
in blue and white, a doe and a buck were respectiyely 
first and second; in my and white, a buck stood 
first, and a doe second ; and in self-colour, again, a 
buck and a doe were respectively first and second. 
To attempt a description of the happy pride with 
which the gifted guardians of the successful candi- 
dates regaraed the objects of their care, is a task 
beyond our power : we might hope to give some faint 



0HAMBER8^ JOURNAL. 



15 



idea of tiie feeHngs of a parent wbose darlinjo; aon had 
non aa Indian appointment; of tfao laborious tutor 
whow favoiurite papil had paned fint in the examin- 
ation for the ran College; of the mathematical 
' eoach' wfaoae exertions hM been rewarded by seeing 
a ' pup' Senior Wran^er — but we must leave to the 
imagination to portray the joy of him who has ^- 
tened a rabbit to the fullest extent compatible with 
a whole skin. For poultry, pigeons, and rabbits, the 
prises ransed from L.5 to L.1, and ' silver cups, or 
other articfes of plate of the value of L.6 and L.^ and 
silver medals of the value of L.2,' mi^ht be obtained 
'in lieu of money-prizes, when desired.* What a 
noble reward for taking care of a rabbit ! It is very 
little less than a man gets for preserving life from 
fire. 

Now, it strikes ns that we have made use of some 
terms, especially in the case of the pigeons, which may 
puzzle a few of our readers as much as they did our- 
selves, imtil we took the trouble to ascertain their 
meaning, and the reason of their ^^cation to the 
various specimens. Pouters, thep, are so called from 
having a sort of pouch below the beak, which they 
can distend, by filung it with air, at pleasure. Crop- 
pers — which have also a |X>uch like Pouters— owe their 
name to the size of their crops, which, especially in 
the Butch croppers, are unusimlly large. We regret 
to state, on hifii authority, that both Croppers and 
Pouters are bad parents, and neglect their offspring 
terribly. The Carriers explain uiemselves; but we 
may peihape be allowed to record, that a good bird of 
the carrier kind has been known to travel at the rate 
of more than twenty miles an hour ; and to warn all 
who mean to train carrier-pigeons, to begin with them 
as soon as they are full-fledged, exercise them gradu- 
ally, and always feed and water them before starting, 
lest thev wander in search of refreshment, or drop 
before finishing their journey. The Tumbler's pecu- 
liarity it is easy to guess : he turns somersaults in 
the air, both when ascending from and descending 
to the ground. The word Almond-tumbler (in German, 
Hermdmtaube) appears to be a corruption of ermine- 
tumbler; the plumage of this pigeon is marked like 
ermine. Dragons, or, as they are sometimes called. 
Dragoons, are a cross between a horseman-pigeon and 
a tumbler-pigeon, and are possibly so called because 
dragoons were originally half-inmntry half-cavalry. 
Short-faced Mottles, Short-faced Bald-heads, Short- 
faced Beards, and Short-faced Tumblers, of course, 
need no explanatioiL Jacobines have a range of 
feathers upon the back-part of the head, forming a 
sort of hood like the cowl of a Jacobine monk, or 
monk of the order of St Dominic Owls, it is sup- 
pcsed, owe their nomenclature to a fancied resem- 
blance discovered in them to the tu-whit — tu-whoo-er. 
Nuns have a tuft of white feathers rising from the 
back of the head, and arching over like a hood, whence 
their name. Whether Turbits derive their title from 
the shape of their heads, which are top-like, or from 
their flight, or ^m some other peculiarity, we regret 
to confess that we are quite unable to state. Fantails 
is a word of which every one can see the meaning ; 
but Shakers is also anoUier name given to this style 
of pigeon, and they are divided into broad-tailed 
shakers and narrow-tailed shakers. Barbs are (origin- 
ally) importations from Barbary. The Magpie-pigeon 
is mdebted for its name to the colour and appearance 
of the wings, which resemble those of a magpie. 
Trumpeters nave been so dubbed irova. the noise wnich 
they utter under certain exhilarating circumstances, 
particularly in the spring, when the pigeon's * fancy 
lightly turns to thoughts of love.' The trumpeter, 
let us observe in passing, wears feathers upon his 
l^s, which give him a gaiteriah, churchwardenly 
appearance. Hunts, we imagine, have, or ought to 
have, their name from the shortness of their legs ; runt 
meaning stunted; and a little old woman being called 
in Scouand, we believe, a runt^ With reject to 



rabbits, it will be snfl^cient to ezi^ain that sdf-ooUmr 
means the wme cciour nU over. 

And now, we think enoo^ has been said to give 
a tolerable idea of the canoidates ior prizes in this 
competitive examination. So much pleased were we 
with their conduct, that we begged for them a holiday, 
in order that they^ mi^t see the big fountains play, 
and share our ediflcation at the unwonted sight of a 
whole regiment of Tipperary Militia Artillery perfectly 
sober afiir dumer. We are sorry to say that our 
request was not complied with, and we are the 
more grieved, as the opportunity is not likely to be 
repeated. We don't mean that the Tipperary boys 
wul never be sober again, but that the candidates 
will never have another chanoe of seeing them. 

ERRATA- 

A GENTLEMAN of our acquaintance, rudiing for the 
first time into print, was greatly dismayed when he 
had his proof-shps sent him, to observe a marginal 
note in pencil, which he naturally took to be a critical 
remark upon the sentence opposite to which it had 
been written. The note was m one word only, and 
that only in one syllable, but then that syllable was 
— 'Bald. Our friend was unaware of the ways of 
prints^ He did not know that — the work of 
' setting up ' a manuscript being divided — each com- 
positor 8 name is written on the margin of the proof, 
just where his portion begins. In tms case, it hap- 
pened that the name of one particular compositor 
was the- syllalde in question, so that its appearance 
on our friend'^ article was perfectly innocent. But 
he understood the word by wmj of scornful comment 
or rebnke, and instantly bqa^an to supply an imagined 
deficiency of epigram. We are aware that the same 
story is told of Theodore Hook, with the mere differ- 
ence, that * Twaddle,' and not * Bald,' appeared against 
a passage on the neat turn of which he had especially 
plumed himself. 'Hang it!' said Hook, *I don% 
deny the fellow's right to criticise, but he might have 
had the decency to wait till I had publish^.' Our 
own story, however, has truth to recommend it, 
although no novelty. 

There are equally good stories to be told in con- 
nection with proof -slips, on ^diich are detected by far 
the greatest number of printers' errors. Mistakes of 
the press, in these days, are wonderfully few — ^that is 
to say, such as escape observation in the printing- 
office, and are sent forth to puzzle or amuse the 
general reader. Not only does an author, in most 
cases, revise carefully his own work, but it is after- 
wards read for press by a competent person, assisted 
by a sharp readmg-boy, who goes through the ' copy ' 
in a rapid but distinct manner, hammering off 
syllable after syllable with just as much em^uuds 
on one as on another. Still, it is impossible to pre- 
vent blundera occurring now and then. A book was 
pubhshed, not long a^, in which some modem 
example of pablic spirit and good citizenship was 
brou^t into comparison with uie conduct of * Cato 
and Brutus.' The words quoted were the last of 
one of the chapters, and were no doubt intended 
to produce an excellent finishing effect. But unfor- 
tunately this ridiculous blunder passed scrutiny; 
the two Roman names were pnnted 'Cats and 
Brutes.' 

The daily newspapers, considering the short time 
necessarily given to the woridng of several depart- 
ments, are marvels of correct tjrpography. It is in 
the parliamentary debates that errors of the press 
might be most looked for, and certainly would be 
most pardonable. But we do not think the proportion 
is much greater in this than in other parts of the 
pajier. Hedf, and more than half, the mistakes in the 
parliamentary columns consist of simple transpositions. 
This is easily understood. The distribution of labour 
increases towards the late honzs, with the xeporting 



y-r 



16 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



staff as well as among the compositors, and much 
piecemeal-work has to be joined together. One of the 
ordinary pecautions taken to prevent mistakes did 
actuallv lead once to one which must have been 
perfectly bewildering to many readers. Each reporter 
writes at the end of his work the name of the 
centleman who is to come after him, thus : ' Brown 
fols.' And Brown, in turn, writes, at the beginning, 
his own name and that of his predecessor, coupled 
thus : 'Brown fols Robinson.' The compositors * follow 
copy* with respect to these names, which further 
serve as a guide in putting the portions of type 
together in the * galley.* xtey should be removed, 
of course, before the columns are made up for press ; 
but on the occasion of which we are speaking, this 
removal of the private guide-marks was not effected ; 
and it consequently happened that a not very eloquent 
harangue was further marred by the intrusion of 
these two brief and enigmatical lines : 

Doolahan fols. 
Doolahan fols Trotter. 

Many an eye was doubtless attracted to this queer 
couplet as to a classical quotation ; and many must 
have been the failures to perceive any good reason for 
embelH^iing prosiness with sheer absurdity, instead 
of using the more familiar, but not much more 
appropriate illustration, of 'Hinc illaa lachrymse,* or 
' limeo Danaos et dona ferentes.* 

A remarkable displacement once happened in a 
weekly miscellany. A long paragraph became divided 
down the middle, and one half was pushed up for the 
space of a line. The half line that was thereby in 
excess at the top was lifted down to fill up the space 
left at the bottom. Considerable intellectual exercise 
was thus imposed on persevering readers, as may be 
easily seen, if anybody curious to witness it, try an 
experiment with a paragraph on this page. 

Sometimes the mistakes of printers have a grotesque 
fitness, and the fun is, of course, superior to that 
which belongs to mere incongruity. The reflection 
upon a public officer, that he nad been ' tired in the 
balance and foimd panting,* was very likely as true as 
if it had been correctly printed, ' tried in the balance 
and found wanting.* A similar coherence charac- 
terises that little change of orthography in the title 
of Lord Momin^n's glee, Here in CoolOrot, which, 
as the composition is a great favourite in convivial 
assemblies, was appropriately rendered, Here in Cool 
Grog; while the *mtemal arrangements' at Chelsea 
College, at the time of a certain xmlitary investigation, 
might have been with truth — as they were literally — 
styled, * infernal arrangements,* although the first 
reading must be admitted to be the right one. 

A case of this sort — unique so far as our expe- 
rience goes, and, in all probability, no blunder at 
all, but merely a well-meant attempt on the part of a 
prosaic compositor to bring a poet's hyperbole within 
the range ox ordinary understanding — occurred in the 
printing of one of Mr Alexander Snith's poems. A 
line describing a lover's triumphant state of happi- 
ness, runs magnificently thus : 

I seemed to walk on thrones. 

Substitute 'thorns* for * thrones,* and enunciate it 
with the majestic and sonorous dignity which the 
rhythm and the whole spirit of the verse require, 
and we think the change will be admitted to oe a 
grand achievement of weakness. 

The errata of the law-stationers, and even of short- 
hand writers in transcribing their ovhi notes, or the 
notes of others, would, if a tithe were recorded, suffice 
to keep the compositors in countenance. We will try 
to remember a lew of many which have paraed under 
our own eyes. The scientific evidence given before 
select committees of the House of Commons is very 
productive of such errata. The statement that 
' deoomiKwitions take place in great rivers, which 



resolve the elements, and completely change them,' 
might have been more precise, but it certainly gained 
noSiing by being altered to the surprising assertion 
tiiat these fluviid phenomena, instead of * resolving* 
the 'elements,* and completely 'changing* them, 
'result in eels, and completely eat them.' In 
another parliamentary inquiry, the nature of which 
was agricultural, a vdtness was made to bestow a 
high encomium upon KnigMs Oil as a manure. Mr 
L&ouchere was once irreverently and preposterously 
mentioned as ' Our Butcher ;' and, in the same com- 
mittee, a mistake occurred of which we are able only 
to recollect the nonsense. The answer of a witness 
to some common-place question was thus reported: 
* Policemen buttoned up ; they were terrific' What 
the exact question was, or what the reply ought to 
have been, we cannot now even guess ; all we know 
with absolute certainty is, that neither question nor 
reply had the remotest bearing upon the terrific 
ns^^ed of the constabulary. 

* Li your father a partner in the Low Moor Works?' 
was the very harmless question put to a highly 
respectable witness, on another occasion. The gentle- 
man must have been greatly amused and deSghted 
at reading the question thus, in the report of his 
evidence : * Is your father a pauper in the Low Moor 
Workhouse?' 

The Sebastopol Committee, as was but right and 
proper, produced a very splendid crop of blunders. 
We offer a particularly fine specimen. It was stated by 
an officer, m giving an account of the advance of the 
allies, that 'the troops marched across the Belbec, 
and drew up in front of the North Forts.' This 
intelligible statement was turned into the following 
mass of absurdity : ' The troops marched across the 
Baltic, and drew up in front of the North Foreland.* 

•In the committee on Kajah Brooke's Borneo matters, 
some years ago, 'war-canoes' came frequently into 
question ; antj^ catching fatuously at the sound, the 
law-writer, to whom the government reporter was 
dictating, wrote ' walk and ooze,' over ana over and 
over again ! 



A RAILWAY LYRIC. 

Four hundred miles, Love, lie between, 
Four hundred miles 'twixt thee and rco, 

Of purple moor and mountain green. 
Of teeming town and lonely lea ; 

But since I know these iron lines, 
Unbroken, stretch to thy dear home, 

My aching spirit less repines ; 

For, kin to Comfort, there doth come 

A pleasant Pain at sight of them. 
When, ere, at mom my toils begin, 

Or late, at the Day's garment-hem, 
I seek the Station and its din. 

With patience then I mark the throng, 
Who, whither thou dost dwell, do go. 

Though ruthless Fate, inflicting wrong 
Unconsciously, doth chain me so. 

' They fly, they will be there anon, 
At this or that o' the clock,' I say ; 

' So soon ; and these long lines run on 
From me to thee, Love, all the way.' 



Emkrixvs. 



Printed and Published by W. & R Chambers, 47 Pater- 
noster Row, London, and 'X^ High Street, Edinburgh. 
Also sold by William Robertson, 23 Upper Sackville 
Street, Dublin, and all Booksellers. 



Scitnct anb §irts. 

COyDUCTED BY WILLIAM AND ROBERT CHAMBERS. 



No. 367. 



SATURDAY, JANUARY 12, 1861. 



Price 1^. 



THE GUANO ISLANDS. 

FiFT££X miles from the land, with the islands 
enveloped in a haze, and the shipping still invisible, 
and yet a strong *Paracca' breeze blowing off the 
coast, carried out to sea such clouds of fine im- 
palpable dust, and brought 'with it such a strong 
anunoniacal odour, as left no doubt in our minds 
that the Guano Islands were close at hand. The 
sea, too, even at this distance from the shore, was 
covered with innumerable pelicans, engaged in their 
piscatory avocations, who seemed to have become so 
accustomed to the shipping, that they scarcely shifted 
their course to avoid it. As we drew further in, the 
outline of the islands, and some two hundred ships, 
became well defined ; and nearer still, we could see 
most distinctly with a glass a multitude of human 
beings like so many ants going to and fro, as they 
moved their load from one spot to another, where it 
was more accessible for shipment. The Chincha or 
Guano Islands are three in number ; the largest,' opj)©- 
site which we lay, was covered with the greatest 
amount of this deposit, and had been most worked ; 
the second was somewhat less, but scarcely any guano 
had ever been removed from it ; and the third was by 
much the smallest, and contained very little of this 
substance. 

Besides these, we noticed at a short distance 
the San Gallan group, having similar deposits, and 
the little island of Blanco, deriving its name from the 
glistening white appearance which its surface presents 
in the sim. As these islands are distant from twelve 
to fifteen miles from the shore, and rise so abruptly 
from the deep, that large vessels, over 1000 tons 
register, can be brought close alongside them, there 
is, with the exception of one spot, no shelving 
beach, and, consequently, the mode of access to the 
island is very peculiar. Over the face of the rock, 
some thirty or forty feet high, is suspended a chain- 
ladder, exchanged above, where there is no friction, 
for a stout hempen one. To the foot of this the 
boat is brought, and each party in his turn grasps 
hold of the chain, and mounts to the landing-place 
above. This is easy enough when the sea is perfectly 
smooth, but on this coast there is not unfrequently 
a tremendous surf, which, rising and falling several 
feet in a minute against the steep face of the 
rock, demands great agility in leaping fi*om the boat 
on to the ladder. At the landing-place, two of the 
soldiers of republican Peru kept guard, in 'order to 
prevent any of the convicts, who are sent hero for 
penal servitude by their government, or the Chinese, 
who are nominally free labourers, but actually in most 
abject slavery, from escaping ; and a little to the side 



stood the guard-house, or relieving quarters of these 
troops. 

From this landing-place, we ascended a wooden 
ladder to that part of the island where operations are 
at present carried on, and at the head stood a wooden 
erection, the house of the commandante of the island 
and his sub-officials, who receive all dues levied on 
vessels anchoring hei'e, and regulate the order in which 
each shall ship its cargo; and this order, which 
should be regulated by the date of arrival, the quiet 
suggestion of a sovereign or two has a wonderful 
effect in altering. Leaving these head-quarters of 
the government, we strolled over the island ; not a 
blade of grass, not a vestige of anything green, was 
visible; nothing but a dry parched surface formed 
the soil, and a dusty ammoniacal air the atmosphere, 
of this ancient dunghill. A little to the right, we 
came upon a collection of low miserable bamboo huts, 
tlic odour from which perfectly overjwwered the 
much more pleasant effluvia of ammonia. 

Peering into one or two of these wretched dwellings, 
we readily recognised, in all their squalid filth, the 
deluded subjects of the Celestial Empire, who, seduced 
from their own country under the belief that they were 
engaged to work among sugar-canes or on gold-fields, 
for a fixed term of five years or so only, after which 
they would be free, are here prisoners for life. Now, 
though we ourselves were eye-witnesses of this oppres- 
sive servitude, we would wish our readers to accept 
with caution such facts as did not come imder our 
immediate observation, since they present features as 
apalling as any mentioned by Mrs Stowe in her vivid 
delineation of negro slavery. None can object to the 
Peruvian government turning its convict population 
to account, by making them quarry the deposits on 
these islands ; but when a Chinaman sets foot here, 
we are assured he never returns to his own country, 
and that no less than 4000 have been tnmsported 
hither at one time or another. They receive as pay a 
realj or sixpence a day, of which, however, one half 
is paid to the commandante of the island, and they 
are supposed to live and clothe themselves on the 
remainder. The labour exacted for this remimeration 
is a ton-weight of guano, excavated with the usual 
pick and shovel, since this deposit becomes from long 
exposure, the imbibition of night-dews, &c., tolerably 
consolidated. Removing it in barrows, these are 
again emptied into trucks, which are run on an 
extemporary rail to tlie edge of the cliff, where 
they are capsized, and their contents shot down 
a long wide tube into the hold of the ship, or her 
long-boat. Whenever the prescribed amount has 
been removed, the. subject of the Celestial Empire is 
at liberty for the day ; and many a time have we 



18 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



watched these unfortunate beings, when the allotted 
task was done, come down to the edge of the water, 
and, stripping off their cotton tunics, immerse them- 
selves in the sea, and strive to wash themselves free of 
the powdery filth of the day's work. 

It was currently reported that, a few days prior to 
our arrival, the commandante of the island had three 
of these refractory diggers flogged so severely that 
they died in a few hours after ; and it is well known 
that, to escape so galling a bondage, some have poisoned 
themselves with opium, some have allowed them- 
selves to be buried alive in the very material they 
were working in, and others, choosing a more easy 
form of death, have jumped off the rocks into the sea, 
and drowned themselves. Whether owing to a know- 
lec^e of these sad facts, or from an experience of the 
fri^tful massacres so often occurring on board ships 
freighted with Chinese emigrants, we know that at 
one time her Majesty's government declared that they 
should not be carried in Sriti^ bottoms, consequently, 
most of the Celestials whom we have seen arrive m 
Australian ports, en route for the ^old-fidds, have 
been brought thither in American ships ; and during 
the passive it has frequently happened that the crew 
were obUsed to retreat to tiie after-end of the ship, 
and ooula only trim the sails, or work the vessel, by 
goinff forward in a body, provided n^th cutlasses and 

HstSs, while the front of the poop was armed with 

Louble-shotted caironadcs. 

At a little distance from these wretched dwelling 
was situated another wooden erection, the hospitu, 
sapported by the Peruvian government, probably 
more from the nohtic principle of losing as few 
workers as possible, than from any charitaue feeling 
far their simerin^ Introducing ourselves to the 
medical superinteiment, a German, ne shewed us round 
his ward, which constituted the whole hospital, com- 
prising about ten beds, occupied mainly by patients 
Buffenng from indolent sores, produced by poor diet, 
a fever case or two, and one accident, where a truck 
had run over a man's leg. The buildinc was of the 
most primitive kind possible, and tiie wholenntemal 
airangements were of the most niggardly description. 
As we extended our walk, we came round to the 
back of the island, where the deposit is much less in 
thickness — that on the side next the shipping being 
roughly estimated at fift^ feet deep, comprising 
awards of seventeen nulhons of tons — and fell in 
with a gaily^ decorated wooden shed, htmg with silks, 
and dis^ymg brilliant fla^. We did not go in, but 
saw that the entrance, which was adorned with cur- 
tains, WHS occupied by a counter, behind which were 
standing two Uhinese ^rgeously dressed, evidently 
masters of the ceremomes ; the rest of the building 
was in like manner filled with counters and forms. 
At first, we supposed that this was a joss-house, or 
place intended for the celebration of the religious 
services of the Chinese; but a gentleman who was 
with us, and had often been on the island before, 
informed us that it was a gambling-house, and that 
the proprietor had amassed no less a sum than two 
thonsaad dollars out of the miserable pittance paid to 
his brother- workers. 

At one end of the island is set apart an acre or so 
of guano, under the designation of a cemetery, intended 
for the use of sailors who may die here, but without 
the sli^itest endoeure, either wooden fence or stone 
walL It was certainly the most wretched necropolis 
we ever saw : not a ia-ee, not a vestige of adornment 
of any kind distinguished this hallowed patch ; nor is 
it certain that the Peruvian government wHl respect 
the spot when the supply of guano becomes scarce. 
Would it not have been beUer to have adopted 
the plan followed when at sea, and committed the 
dead to the deep, instead of bmying them in a heap 
of manure ? Or, better still, to have interred them in 



the hold of the diip, as was done with the body of 

the captain of the A during the time we lay 

there, since the antiseptic qualities of the guano wiU 
keep the remains entire for months, until they can 
obtain more decent burial As we stepped over one 
or two mounds which alone indicated tne presence of 
the dead, we noticed at the head of otners amall 
wooden tablets, carved with the name, age» and 
occupation of the deceased, which was always that 
either of a petty-officer or common seaman. 

It is a well-known fact, that guano may be met 
with in nearly all parts of the world, but that when- 
ever the rain faUs, it is washed away. Much of Peru, 
however, is situated in what geographers call the 
rainless region of the earth ; consequently, this 
deposit has been accumulating for ages, probably 
several thousand years, and rain never fadling, or 
else so sparingly as to be hailed by the inhabitants 
as agua benedita (holy-water), has never been 
swept off On inspectmg the surface, this sub- 
stance appears to be of a light brownish hue ; lower 
down, the colour deepens U> a dark brown, and the 
layers next the rock are generally of a dusky red. 
The bones of seals, the wings, and even entire birds^ 
are often met with while excavating — occurrences 
which have ^ven rise to the idea among those who 
freouent the islands, that guano is not so much formed 
of tne excrement as of the decomposed bodies of these 

As a manure, ffuano has been but comparatively 
recently employea in England, but it would seem to 
have been used as such oy the Peruvians from the 
age of the Incas downwards. In 1839, the govern- 
ment of Peru sold to Messrs Quiros, Allier, & Co., of 
Lima, for the trifling sum of about ten thousand 
pounds, the sole right to ship guano during a period 
of nine yeais. As they, however, soon after saw that 
they had committed a grievous error towards the 
state in thus willing away a privilege of the value of 
which -they wero totally ignorant, they cancelled this 
contract in 1841, and for several years the trade was 
free, till they again gave a monopoly to the Messrs 
Gibbs & Sons oi London. Much attention having, 
however, of late been bestowed on the manufacture of 
artificial manures, the demand for this substance has 
not been so great. In order that the continuance of 
deposit may not be interfered with, the Peruvian 
government strictly forbid the use of firearms in the 
vicinity of the islands; but the number of men 
now employed upon them have completely driven 
the birds away, who now resort to the islands 
of San Gallan and Blanco, and the mainland. This 
cessation of feud between man and the lower animals 
of creation is still more extended in its effects, for 
the seals, which here abound in thousands, and receive 
the benefit of this act of grace, as supposed co- 
labourers with the birds in the formation of this 
valuable material, come bobbing up around the boat 
in dozens at a time, while immense whales gambol 
about among the shipping, spouting their water on 
board without being the least afraid of their sworn 
foe. 

As the Chinchas rise most abruptly firom the sea, a 
peculiar method of shipment has to be adopted. From 
the top of the cliff, a long and wide canvas shoot or 
tube, called a manffiierra^ one hundred and fifty feet 
long, by six to eieht in diameter, is securely fastened, 
ana the lower end placed in the hold of the long-boat. 
When the word is given that all is in readiness, two 
or three truck-loads aro shot down, until that boat 
has received its quantum ; when, as it shoves off, 
another party lay hold of the end of the canvas shoot, 
and when they have received their load, another, and 
another, till all aro filled. If, however, the hieher 
officials of the Peruvian government on the island 
do not scruple to rogulate the order of supply to each 
vessel by the amount of the bribe given, ncitiier does 
the man who has charge of the manguerra forget to 



GHAMBSBS*S JOURNAL. 



19 



suggest tbat ke, too, has Ini prioe ; for 'when the lonff- 
boatof the ship we were in w^ for their ^aiigo, thon^ 
first si the snoot, they were put off to the last, and 
made aware of the reason by avoice shouting down 
the tnbe : * What for master not send me old coat, 
boots, and hat?' Sometimes, howeTer, a much more 
expeditious method of shipment is adopted. The 
v^sel is hrouflht quite close alongside, some thirty or 
f oity yaids m>m tiie rooks, immediately under the 
mansuena — a matter of no difficulty as regards the 
depu, here generally from fiftem to thirty J»thoms — 
and bein^ securely swung broadside on to the island 
(thoufih m such a precarious position, that with each 
r(^ of the Borf ^le swavs to and fro so much that the 
tope of her maste nearly touch the rocks), the lower 
end of the shoot is received into the hold of the ship, 
and bein^ fed all day long with tracks of guano from 
abo^e, will take in (we are tdd) lour hundred tons 
in a day. Thus, in three or four days, a fourteen- 
hundred ton ship is filled and despatched. 

The delay, however, occasioned by inefficient means 
of 8im|^ is very great, so much so, that three or four 
montns is no unusual period of detention. During 
this time, masters and officers of slups amuse them- 
selves by catching £sh, winch used to be so plentiful 
as to be obtainable in boat-loads, and -^i^di of 
course oonstitnte the food of the innimierable millions 
of birds which swarm akmg this coast, and literally 
daricen the sky. 

We svrselves having been detained there a foort- 
ni^it, waiting the amval of the Pacific MaQ Com- 
put's steamer, took the opportunity of visiting the 
mainland at Pisoo, a miseranle collection of bamboo 
stuocoad huts, situated nearly oppositie the islands. 
Not fc nisU i ^g to the accommodation to be found in so 
rechevoh^ a Pouvian city, noted, however, for its 
wine, we took a tent with tis, and camping imder 
some pahn-trees at a well, situated like an oasis in tiie 
middle of a sandy desert, made sundry excursions 
along the coast, destroying large numbers of birds, 

{)rinoipally of a duck species, which proved excel- 
ent eating. On one occasion, extending our journey 
into the interior a little, we came upon a mound of 
dead bodiea, evidently those of coloured people, as 
betokened by the skin of the hands and feet, which, 
thou^ parched and dry, were still entire. The skulls, 
made perfectly brittle by long exposure to a burning 
sun and dry atmoqihere, lay on the surface in dozens ; 
and the cotton tunics of the former wearers were 
fluttering about in the air, where the wind had drifted 
them bare of sand ; but whether this was only the 
hurried entombment of those who hod fallen ^actims 
to the plague, or been killed in some of their intestine 
strugsles, we oould not learn. 

A xarouiite exonrsion was to the islands of San 
Gallan and Blanco, whither the birds and seals, 
formedy inhabiting the Chinchas, have now repaired. 
The latter are nearly as numerous as the former, and 
may be seen basking on the rocks in thousands, 
affording subject of sport for an expert shot, as they 
come ahdingi slipping, and splashing into the water 
in dosens on the report of a lifie. We reserved the 
skin and fat, the latter being turned into oil, and 
left the carcass to be consumecf by the turkey vultures 
and others of that species, who form the scavengers 
of Pern, as the adjutants do of India. 

Unimportant as Pisco ii, the fleet around, and the 
labonners of the Guano Islands, could not exist 
without it, since every morsel of food, and every drop 
of water required by them, has to be brought from 
these — a dvtance of twelve miles — ^by lar;^e boats, 
which start in the morning, and return agam in the 
afteraoon. It is almost impossible, withmxt visiting 
these i«l— KJOj to form an idea of their unique appea]> 
ance. This barren rock, whose soil — ^the sohoified 
excnmeni of myriads <^ sea-fowls for many ages — 
prodnceB not a blade of grass, nor gives origin to a 
riQ of water, im certainly a fitting spot in which the 



convict may eke out his lifetime of servitude; but 
also one where the tyranny of man may oondemn to 
perpetual slavery his fellow-man, without fearing the 
mquiries of the philanthropist. 

SIR FRANCIS ON THE HORSE. 

It has of late become the fashion with not a few of 
those authors who have earned -a great and deserved 
reputation amon^ us by their wit and htunour, tiieir 
eloquence, or their powers of stoiy-telling, to take to 
didactic writing, or, in other words, to lecturing the 
British public pretty severely. The offices oF the 
parson and the political economist are usurped by 
these lay-preachers. The cap and beUs are laia aside, 
the white bans decorously adopted, and Mr laston 

Slays, at length, with greater or less success, his long- 
esired part of the Prmce of Denmark. S^ Francis 
Head of the Brunnen and the Emigrant^ of the French 
Sticha and of Stokers and Pokern, is tiie latest addition 
to this band of volunteer Teachers. Other authors 
have confined themselves to teaching, after various 
fashions, the young idea to shoot; £ut the baronet 
has ^ne a step further .in his present volume,* by 
teaching both old and yoni^ among us how to 
ride. There is a portrait, we suppose of Sir F^rancia 
himself, but which exceedingly resembles Mr Bright, 
M.P., prefixed to these pages, and representing a 
gentleman crossing the Andes mounted upcMi a fied 
Indian, with the not unnatural query written under 
it, * Which is the savage?^ but in the letterpress, our 
author confines himself exclusively to the Horse. 
This animal has been an inhabitant of almost every 
region of the earth, and in all ages. His teeth lie in 
the polar ice, not for anaesthetic purposes, but because, 
when he was alive, he dwelt there in company witii 
the Siberian mammoth ; in the Himalaya with 
lost and only lately obtained genera ; and in the 
caverns of Ireland. His bones rest, unless when the 
geolofidst sacrilegioualy disturbs them, with tiiose of 
the Mastodon and the colossal Urus. Unlike these, 
however, he remains on the earth's surface as well as 
under it. He is found in all history, sacred, profane^ 
and modem; sharing in the conquests and defeats, 
the occupations and amusements of man. When the 
famine yrns sore in the land of Egypt, the Egyptiana 
gave him unto Joseph in exchan^ for bread. He 
was overthrown with his rider m the Red Sea. 
He was rampant at Nineveh and in the Acropolis 
of Athens, as we see in the friezes ) and we have got 
him in half the squares of London with a kine on his 
back. He is the current raft of friendship which is 
offered to one another by kings up to this day, and 
he is worthy to be so. And yet how vile^ the 
majority of men, from kings to tailors, treat him in 
return ! It is true such persons are not aware of the 
cruelty they arc committing, and it is to remind the 
thoughtless, and to instruct the ignorant, that Sir 
Francis Head has written this book. 

There is no subject, says he, connected with this 
matter so worthy of consideration, most especially to 
any man wearing the name of a gentleman, as the use 
and abuse of Spurs. Whatever is to be said — ^and that 
is very little — in favour of spurs in the case of animals 
that have been roaming in a state of nature, that 
have never tasted com, or been excited to race against 
one another, and, consequentiy, tiiat cannot be induced 
to exliaust in man's ser\nce the whole of their strength, 
except by punishment, with Engliah horses the con- 
ditions are quite different. *Tied to mansen, in 
which they feast ou dry oats, beans, and hay, no 
sooner do they leave their stables than the very sight 
of creation animates them ; every carriage that trots 
by, and every rider that passes, excites tnem. When 
brought into condition, and then encouraged to 

» The Hone and hie Rider. Bj Sir FraxiciB B. Head, Bart. 
Murray, London. 



20 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



1 



compete against each other, their physical strength, 
though artificially raised to the maximum^ remains 
far behind their instinctive courage and disposition 
to go till they die in almost any service in which 
they may be employed. 

'Under these circumstances, the vse of the spur is 
to enable man to maintain his supremacy, and, when- 
ever necessary, promptly and efficiently to suppress 
mutiny in whatever form it may break out. If a 
restiff horse objects to jiass a particular post, he must 
be forced to do so. If he refuses to jump water, he 
must, as we have described, be conquered ; but in 
every case of this nature, a combination of cool deter- 
mination, plenty of time, and a little punishment, 
invariably form a more permanent cure than a pre- 
scription composed only of the last ingredient ; for 
as anger, in a horse as in a man, is a short madness, 
an a-mmal under its influence is not in so good a state 
to learn and remember the lesson of obedience which 
man is entitled to impart, as when he has time given 
to him to observe that the just sentence to whidi he 
is sternly required to submit, is tempered with mercy. 

* But if the uses of the spur are few, its abuses are 
many. On the race-course, the eagerness and impe- 
tuosity of thoroughbred horses to contend against 
each other are so great, that for a considerable time it 
is difficult to prevent them, especially young ones, 
from starting before the signal is given. As soon as 
they are " off^" it becomes all that the best riders in 
the world can do merely to guide them : to stop them 
would be impossible. Occasionally, their very limbs 
" break down " in their endeavours to win ; and yet, 
while they are exerting their utmost powers and 
strength — ^to the shame of their ownei-s, and to the 
disgrace of the nation — the riders are allowed, as a 
sort of show-off, to end the contest by whipping and 
spurring, which, nine times out of ten, has the effect 
of makmg the noblest quadruped in' creation do what 
is technically called shut up^ which means that the 
ungenerous and imgrateful pimishmcnt and degra- 
dation that have been unjustly inflicted upon him 
have cowed his gallant spirit, and have broken an 
honest heart ! ' 

The hunter — nay, the horse of whatever kind who 
is taken to the hunting-field — will follow the hoimds 
till he drops, and to his own great physical detriment ; 
so that after having, with apparent cheeHulness, 
brought his rider home with a good appetite, secured 
by some ten or twelve hours' exercise, his own 
exhausted stomach remains for hours, and sometimes 
days, without the smallest desire for com or beans. 

* If this plain statement be correct, leaving humanity 
entirely out of the question, how ienorant and con- 
temptible is that man who is seen, during a run, not 
only to be spurring his horse with both heels, when- 
ever he comes to deep-ploughed ground or to the 
bottom of a steep hill, but who, just as if he were 
singing to himself a little song, or, " for want of 
thought," whistUng to himself a favourite tune, 
throughout the run, continues, as a sort of idle accom- 
paniment to his music, to dangle more or less severely 
the rowel of one spur into the side of a singed hunter, 
who all the time is a great deal more anxious to live 
with the hounds than he is ! ' 

Again, how many men, calling themselves spoiia- 
men, do we see m the hunting-field, after long severe 
runs, lighting their cigars, and taking their ease upon 
the backs of the very creatures whose exertions have 
enabled them to be in * at the finish,' and whose 
qualifications may even fonn the tlieme of their talk. 

* In the army, when a soldier who has committeil an 
offence is sentenced to crawl, for several hours, up 
and down a parade " in heavy marching order," it is 
justly called " punisfinient drill.'' In like manner, if 
an unruly horse were to be sentenced merely to stand 
in his stable for ten houra with a sack of heavy oats, 
weighing (at forty-two pounds the bushel) exactly 
twelve stone, the punishment or pain his muscles 



would undergo in bearing such a weight for so long a 
time woidd be so severe that by ahnost everybody 
it would be termed *^ cruel." But if, instead of being 
quiescent, the sack of oats could, by mechanicnl 
contrivances, be continually lifted up, and then by a 
series of heavy blows dropped down upon verteune 
which have nothing but muscles to support them, the 
punishment woidd be condemned as excruciating; 
and yet this excruciating punishment is quite unneces- 
sarily inflicted upon hunters by a lot of good-humoured 
heavy men, simply from neglecting to reflect that if 
they would, only even for a minute or two, occasion- 
ally unload their saddles, to walk a little, stand still a 
little, or while the hounds are drawing, sit placidly 
upon the stile or gate that is often close beside them, 
they would not only perform an act of mercy, bnt 
they would im])art, or rather restore strength, tone, 
and activity to muscles which, if vigorous, can cany 
them safely, but which, if exhausted, must inevitably 
fail when tested by a severe run.' 

Sir Francis Head's athdce, as a practical horsemani 
is not at all less valuable than the part of the volume 
which may be called its 'humanity lectures.' A 
horse accustomed to road-travelling, whose head 
— through the use of the curb-bit — is raised above the 
natitral level, and who has good action, conunonly 
earns the character of being a capital hack. ' Kow, to 
metamorphose " a hack " mto " a hunter " is princi- 
pally effected by the bridle, and yet the great dimculty 
of the art is to learn not how much, but how little to 
use it ; in short, a considerable portion of what the 
bridle has done has to be undone. Accordingly, 
instead of being encouraged to travel on his haunoies 
with his fore-legs lightly touching the groiuid, the 
latter must be reouired to bear the greater portion of 
the burden, whicn it is the duty of the hind-legs to 
propeL The head has to be brought down to its proper 
level ; and to induce or rather to oblige the horse to 
make his eyes the Jantem of his feet, to study geology 
instead of astronomy, he should be slowly ridden, 
with a loose rein, over every little hole, grip, or heap 
that would bo likely to throw a hack down. When- 
ever he can be made to stumble — if the rider feels that 
he will not actually fall — the reins should instantly be 
dropped. In like manner, he should be walked for 
several days over the roughest groimd that can be 
found, particularly land that has been excavated to 
obtain the sulistratum, and left in hol^k With a 
perfectly loose rein he should be gently trotted, gently 
cantered, and gently galloi)ed over a surface of this 
description, the rider always dropping the rein when 
he blunders.' 

The cause and cure of Shying was certainly never 
treated of with greater judgment and humour than in 
the following sentences. ' It often happens ^at a 
horse, brimfid of qualifications of the very best 
description, is most reluctantly sold by his master 
^* because he shies so dreadfully ; " a frolic which, to a 
good lidcr, is ])erfectly harmless, and which, if he 
deems it worth the trouble, he is almost certain to 
cure. A timid horseman, however, not only believes 
that his horse is frightened at the little heap of stones 
at which he shies, but for tliis very reason he becomes 
frightened at it himself; whereas the truth is, that 
the animal's sensations in i)assing it are usually 
compounded as follows : 

Of fear of the little heap, . • • tV 
- » whip and spur, . . . tV 

*■ Now, if this be the case, which no one of experi- 
ence will deny, it is evident that the simple remedy 
to 1>e adopted is, first, at once to remove the great 
cause of the e^dl complaine<l of, by ceasing to apply 
either whij) or spur ; and, secondly, gradually to 
remove the lesser cause by a little patient manage- 
ment, which shall briefly be explained 

* When a horse has i)een overloaded with a heavy 
charge of oats and ))cans, which may be termeii 
jumping powder, and primed by a very short allowance 



J 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



21 



of work, his spirits, like the hair-triffger of a rifle, 
are prepared on the smallest touch to cause a 
very violent explosion. In fact, without metaphor, 
on the slishtest occurrence, he is not only ready, 
hut exceecunely desirous to jump for joy. The 
casus belli which the animal would pemaps most 
enjoy, would be to meet a temperance runaway 
awnmg-covered wagon full of stout, healthy young 
women in hysterics, all screaming ; or to have a house 
fall down just as he was passing it. However, as a 
mreat conqueror, if he cannot discover a lar^ excuse 
n>r invading the territory of his neighbour, is sure to 

Eick out a very little one, so does the high-mettled 
one, who has nothing to start at, proceed under his 
rider with his eyes searching in all directions for 
something which he may pretend to be afraid of. 
Influenc^ by these explosive propensities, he cocks 
his ears at a large leaf which the air had ■ gently 
roused from its sleep, as if it were a crouching tiger ; 
and shortly afterwards, a fore-leg drops under him as 
suddenly as if it had been carried away by a cannon- 
shot, because, in the hedge beside him, a wren has 
just hopped from one twig to another nearly an 
mch. 

*Now, of course, the effective cure for all these 
symptoms of exuberant, pent-up spirits is a long, 
steady hand-gallop up and down mil across rather 
deep ground. Before, nowever, this opportunity offers, 
man can offer to the brute beneath him a more 
reasonable remedy. The instant that a horse at a 
walk sees at a short distance before him, say a heap 
of stones, at which he pretends to be, or really is 
afraid, instead of forcing him on, he should be 
allowed, or, if it be necessary, forced to stop, not 
only till he has ceased to fear it, but until, dead 
tired of looking at it, he averts his eyes elsewhere. 
Whfle advancing towards it, so often as his fear, 
or pretended fear, breaks out, by instantly bringing 
him to a stand-still, it should in uke manner be over- 
appeased.* 

The serious advice in this volume is pleasantly 
interspersed with anecdotes of le premier chasseur 
{PAngUterre, as Napoleon called him, or le grand 
chasseur Smityaa he was termed by the Parisians, that 
prince of f oxhunters, Thomas Assheton Smith. Many 
a time has the writer of this notice seen that fine old 
English gentieman among his favourites at Tedworth, 
where every hunter — and he had often as many as 
tifty in first-rate condition — had a loose box to nim- 
sel/. At sixty-four, he brought his hounds for one 
day, by invitation, to Leicestershire, which he had in 
old times hunted himself, and no less than ttffo 
ihouaoMd-honemeiL, one-third of whom were in pink, 
attended to do him honour. Until eighty years of age, 
this veteran continued to hunt, alwough his meets 
were curtailed to four a week, to vault on horseback 
as usual, blow his horn while his horse was carrying 
him over a five-barred gate, and with a loose rein, 
gallop down the sheep-fed hill-sides with all the 
alaonty of a boy. Since Mrs Smith's health was 
delicate, ' he had ** brousht Madeira to England," by 
constructing for her at Tedworth a magniScent con- 
servatory or crystal palace, 315 feet in length, and 40 
in width, in which, enjoying the temperature of a 
warm climate, she might take walking-exerdse diiring 
the winter months. A Wiltshire farmer, on first 
seeing this building, observed, he supposed it was for 
the 'squire to hunt there whenever a frost stopped 
him in the field. ** It was a melancholy spectacle," 
writes Sir JT. Eardley Wilmot, '* to see Tom Smith the 
winter before hla death, when he could no longer join 
his hounds, mount one of his favourite hunters — 
Euzines, Paul Potter, or Blemish — with the assistance 
of a chair, and ti^e his exercise for an hour at 
a foot's pace up and down this conservatory, often 
with some friend at his side to cheer him up and 
while away the time until he re-entered the house, 
fov he wae not allowed at that period to go out 



of doors. Even in this feeble condition, quantHm 
mutatU8 ah iUo Hectare^ once on horseback, he 
appeared to revive ; and the dexterity and ease with 
which he managed, like a plaything, the spirited 
animal under him, which had scarcely left its stable 
for months, was most surprising." ' 

All that a man could do, with intention, upon a 
horse's back, Assheton Smith could do ; but the 
present Major-general Yorke Moore did, unintention- 
ally, even a greater thing than he. He rode a horse, 
at Dominica, in the West Indies, down a sheer preci- 
pice 237 feet high, and is now alive and well to tell 
the story, which we regret there is no room for in our 
columns. The man recovered from the shock, the 
horse it was that died. 

It is not gen^erally known that the practice of lasso- 
draught has been in vogue in the British army, as the 
following extract from the Queen* s Regulations informs 
us. *In order that the cavalry may, upon emer- 
genci^ be available for the purposes of drau^t, such 
as assisting artillery, &c., through deep roa£^and in 
surmounting other impediments and obstacles which 
the carriages of the army have frequently to encounter 
in the course of active service, ten men per troop are 
to be equipped with the tackle of tiie lasso.' The 
Royal f^gmeer Train — who have also adopted the 
South American system of ' hobbling ' t^eir horses, at 
the instigation of our author — ^have demonstrated by 
public experiments in this country, that with this 
simple equipment of the lasso, ' which would injure 
neither the efficiency nor the appearance of the cavahy, 
any number of horses, whether accustomed to drau^t 
or not, are capable of being at once harnessed to any 
description of carriage, not only in front to draw it 
forward, but in rear to hold it back, or even sideways 
to prevent its oversetting — in short, that it is a power 
which can be made to radiate in any direction.' There 
need be, therefore, no more heavy guns sticking in 
quagmires, with friendly cavalry looking on, with 
plenty of power to help them, but no means, as was 
so often the case in the Peninsular War. 

Finally, Sir Francis appeals with just indignation 
against the inhumanity of burning a horse's sinews, 
and cutting out his nerves, without the merciful aid 
of chloroform. 

* You are a man of pleasure^* says he — * save your 
horse from unnecessary pain. You are a man of 
business — inscribe in that ledger in which every one 
of the acts of your hfe is recorded, on one side how 
much he will gain, and on the other, per contrd, how 
very little you will lose, by the evaporation of a fliud 
that will not cost you the price oi the shoes of the 
poor animal whose marketable value you have deter- 
mined, by excruciating agony to him, to increase.' 
The excellent sense and judgment, indeed, which 
distinguish Sir Francis Head's advice throughout this 
volume, are not more worthy of consideration than 
his enlightened humanity, which deserves a special 
medal horn the Society for the ]^:evention of Crudiy 
to the Brute Creation. 



THE FAMILY SCAPEGRACE. 

CQAFTX& III.— VKCLB ISOBAK. 

Mr Ingram Arbour's estimation of his sentimental 
brother^s prudence and sagacibr had not been, as 
we have seen, a high one ; and he had expressed an 
unpleasant foreboding concerning that family, between 
whom and the workhouse of their native parish only 
some three thousand pounds did now in reality 
intervene : but the astute merchant had miscalculated 
matters in one very important particular. He had 
taken it for granted that Benjamin, who was his 
junior by many years, would outUve him. He had 
prophesied future misfortunes with all the unction of 
a Mettemich, under the comfortable impression that 
the Deluge would take place after hia own time. But 



S2 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



Benjamin being dead, Uncle Ingram was become the 
natnral gomrdian of Iub widow and children ; a posi- 
tibn which his stnidj sense of right caused him to 
accept at once and unsolicited. This resoectaUe 
duistian merchant, therefore, found himself in a 
worse predicament than any of those ancient Jews 
whose piety compelled them to marry their childless 
Bsten-m-law. He had to maintain Mrs Benjamin 
Artwmr withont marrying her, as well as her children, 
from No. 1 to No. 6 indusive. Except, therefore, 
for his great reputation for caution, he might just as 
well have married when his brother did, and haye 
pbssessed half-a-doaen children of his own. 

This reflection was scarcely a soothinff one, even if 
Mr Ingram Arbour had been capable of being soothed 
by a refleetioDi — which he waa not He was a man 
who did his duty, but wil^out, hj any means, denyins 
himself the pleasure of grumbhng afe it He would 
mve, and laigely, to whomsoever he judged to have a 
just churn upon him, but he could mot be said to be a 
ebeerfol giver. Benevolence was with him a mere 
business transaction, effected out of office-hours, and 
any act of it had no more accompaniment of delicacy 
or kindness from him, than if it had been the dis- 
oonnting of a bill. He took things, in general, and 
pridsd mmself in doing so, for 'what they were worth ' 
>^4>y which he meant rather what they would 'fetch,' 
if exposed for sale. He waa not, in short, quite the 
man to be selected to say grace before an indifferent 
dinner, and far less after one ; and that he openly 
thanked Ood for having blessed him in the basket and 
in the store, was the more praiseworthy, since he had 
a secret conviction that his success had been entirely 
owing to his own sagacity. 

Sodi was the man who was seated in the little 
dzawing-room of Rose Cottage on a certain July 
•vening after Dick's christening ; and we are intro- 
duced to him at a most favouraJble time, for he had 
Tvst dined, and dined weU, and had within him a 
bottle of poor Benj^s best port, which the widow 
had carefully selected for him. She had done so 
witib. no intention beyond that of hospitality, but 
Unde Ingram was far too clever to believe it. ' Mrs 
B. is not such a fool as ^e looks,' was the doubtful 
compliment he had conferred in his own mind upon 
that lady; although he did not spurn the supposed 
medium of conciliation by any nleans. On the con- 
trary, he had set the last glass of it between the light 
and his own eyea in an admiring manner, with various 
ffuttural noises expressive of approvrd, and only quah- 
fied a satisfactory smack of the lips when it waa 
done, by muttering an anxious hope that his deceased 
brother had paid for it . After which, he had risen 
from tiie tabte, pulled up his shirt-collar, cleared his 
throat, in peparation for the business statement he 
was come down from town to enter upon, corrugated 
his eyebrows, in order to forbid contradiction, and 
joinea his expectant sister-in-law in the drawing- 

XOODL 

This was a bow- windowed apartment, with the three 
sashes at present thrown open — ^for it was. a somewhat 
oppressive, though lovely evening — and the pleasant 
breeae from the river farou^t through them the beat 
of oars, from the frequent pleasure-boats coming from 
or returning to the neighbourins town, and even the 
•piaah of tSe firii, as tiiey les^Md out of the smooth 
but n^id current A little island, fnnced with 
willows, immediately fronted the cottage, hioGnff from 
it the main channel, the noise of whose passing db 
and bargees came mellowed and expurgated 
distance ; while in the near stream, a punt lay moored, 
filled with quiet angers ; and three milk-wMte swans 
BOW pruned tiieir feathers, and now exhibited them- 
aslvBes with their heads under water, and their opposite 
eoctnamities, like gigantic lily-bods, jierpendicularly in 
air. In the f oiegiound, six dean stone steps led from 
the mid- window to a sloping lawn, terminating in a 
ipooden terrace, on whkdi were some half-do9D^^wer- 



baskets full of red geraniums, and a sun-dial, cmiousily 
carved. It was a charming scene, but one fdiick did 
not jar the less on that account on him who now 
beheld it He did not see it for the first time, it is 
true, since he had more than once visited the cottage 
— ^under protest, and always with sundry expressions 
of contempt for that fairy bower — but its quiet beanty 
had never strudc him so deeply before. 

*What ri^t,' thought he, *had that brother of 
mine, with his large family and small income, to have 
such a place as tms ? How much better it ia than 
that great dingy house of my own in Golden Square. 
Those flower-baskets must liave cost a pretty penny 
when they were new, I reckon. If / had the right of 
fishing in this water, I'd startle those poaching 'vaga- 
bonds out in that punt there, pretty quick. T£at 
island must be wortn something when it isn't under 
water, which it is six months ci the year or so, I 
believe; but it's no good asking Mrs K whether 
osiers are up or not just now, i daresay. If that 
swan has cygnets on it, I should like to know who 
claims, the proprietor of the land, or the London 
Company? I daresay, Benjamin never tried that 
question.' 

' Brother Ingram,' observed a musical but melan- 
choly v<nce, breaking in upon these romantic Medita- 
tions, ' will you tal^ a cup of tea now, or will 3rou 
smoke a cigar ? Yon must not mind me, yon know : 
my dear Benjy often used to smoke here im evenings 
such as this.' 

*So much the worse for him, madam,' returned 
Ingram Arbour ; * I daresay he hastened his end by 
th^ deleterious practice. I am sure he helped to 
ruin himaftlf by it-— to ruin himself, madam.' 

By the repetition of the word * nun,' and by oon- 
jurinff up b^ore his mind's eye a vision of poverty 
and oestitution, Mr Arbour contrived to convince 
himself that he was behaving with a sternness only 



proportionate to the circumstances of the case ; just 
as one might call up the atrocities of Delhi or Cawn- 
pore, to justify one's sdf for committing an unprovoked 
assault upon a Hindu crossine-sweeper. 

The idea of impecunioeity Mways stirred Mr Ingram 
Arbour's bile, just as that of cruelty or oppression 
arouses the indu;nation of leas commercial persons. 

* AVhy, good Heavens, madam,' continued ne, worked 
up into a sort of temporary jaundioe by these judicious 
reflections, * that man ought to have died worth five- 
and-twenty thousand pounds, if he had not been an 
idiot That is to say, I mean,' added he, observing a 
faint flush to rise in his sister-in-law's chesioB, * if ne 
had not been so unbusiness-Hke and careless. It waa 
not my affair of course, and I always make- it a point 

not to meddle with other pecmle's af Hi, you 

fellows in that punt,' roared Mr Ingram Arbour, inter- 
rupting himsdf with a jerk, and approaching the 
window, * how do yon dare to use a net in ibuf water, 
YOU poaching scoundrels ? Upon my sacred word of 
honour, Mrs Arbour, they are using a net I' 

' Hush, Brother Ingram,' entreated his sister-in-law ; 
' pray, be quiet ; it 's only a landing-net ; it is only to 
pull the fidi up after they have been hooked.' 

* I don't clu:e what sort of a net it is,' stonned the 
stickler for the rights of property ; ' the law says " a 
net," and they have no ri^t to use a butterfly-net 
there, without your permission. What is the soonndrel 
Sfmng, madam — ^the poacher in the white straw-hat ? 
what is he saying in re^y to my question ? ' 

* I can't heur quite distinctljr,' replied tiie widow, 
bitinff her lips ; *lmt it is something about the Emperor 
of ll£>rocoo, I am afndd, and their most respectful 
compliments.' 

' Then they are afasohitely lau^iing at m^' quoth 
Ingram Arbour, ' are they ? The^ have chosen me, of 
all men, to be the subject of their senseless ribaldry. 
Will jrou kindly favour me with the name of one of 
those individuals, madam? Any one will do.' 

' I dont know the person in the stzaw-hat, Brother 



Ingrsm,' replied his sister-in-law with heeitntioii; 
' thejr mre doubtleas towns-people, who have taken the 
boat for the eveninff/ 

* Yon know the ndiennan — the man who owns the 
boat,* returned the other stabbomly. ' I must kaye 
that fisherman's name, if you please, and at onee.' 

'It was not his fanh, brother,' urged the widow 
pleadingly; *he could not preyent the persons who 
nad emp» jed him from bemg impertinent ; he is a 
veiy weil-oondncted' 

' One moment, if yon please,' replied her brother-in- 
law, inteimpting her cordy. ' Come heiej Adolphns ; I 
want to spMik to yoo.' 

Th& boy was ducking his brother and sisters with 
the garden-engine, but desisted from that occupation, 
and came obcwdent to his unck^s call, with dowvcast 
eyes. 

'Please, sir, it wasn't me }iegan it,' whiii^ ke, 
in a deprecating yoice ; ' it was Johnnie and Maria» 
especially Johnnie' 

* That 's a lie,' returned Undo IngraDi with com- 
posure, ' for I 'ye been watchingyou : and, mind you, 
neyer tell fii« a lie again. Who is that fishetmaa 
yonder, and where does he liye?' 

'His name is John Wilson, and he Hyes in our 
cottage down the stream yonder.' 

'A yery hard-working honest fellow, with a large 
hmalj* added Mrs Arbmir. 

*B«t ke ain't paid his rent, yon know, mother,' 
obseryed Adolphus cunningly ; ' because I heard you 
tell kim yesterday that ne^ month would da' 

* That's a sharp lad,' remarked Uncle Ingram 
app r u t in ^y; ' the preof of the pudding is in the eating, 
am't itk K»y ? You maj go away now, lor your mother 
and I are going to haye some talk — ^thst is to say, if it 
be agreealMe to you, Letitia ? ' 

' My ears are at your senrioe, brother, to reeeiye 
whateyer you may iJease to say ; but I haye little to 
tell Miu, I fancy, which you do not already know.' 

' I know a few things relating to practical matters,' 
retmied the otiier, with a fiiile mollificatioa of 
manner; 'and I generally manage to obtain what 
infotmatioii I am m want of;' imd he entered the 



name of John Wilson into his pocket-book, and shut 
the clasp with a snap. ' Now, then, to business, 
madam. One thousand insurance, and two thousand 
in the tkic^ per cents, is, I belieye, the total figure 
wlueh represents your property — all in the wvrld 
which ymi and your children haye to look to — with 
the exception et this cottage and garden, yonder 
island, aad right of fishing (I'll net thiem, the seoun- 
drels, as sure as my name is Ingram Arbour), and the 
cottage of tbait man Wilson (I 'fi eoUage him, I reckon, 
in a mamier that shall astonish him), with three or 
four himdred lest d osier-bank thereto appertaining.' 

'That, I befieye, is all, brother.' 

' Excuse me; yon don't beliei^ it ; yon 're smreol it 
Theie^ nothing Kke positiye oertaitt^ in mattets oi 
thas kind. You are mre that this is all that lies 

beti Pe u i yon and the Well, yo^ may thank your 

Stan that there was but one fool in my uunily I If I 
died to-aorvow, there would be sometSmtg like ten 



bis bemriy pittance left for my widow; that 
is t» a^, if inad been weak enough to possess one. 
New, I dave say, you think me an unsympathising 
bear, mmkasok — a rode, mercantile old hunks, without 
the lostt gOMTOus or charitable feelings about ham. 
New, dont say you don't, Letitia, because I know you 
dbt. I say you would muck rather see me dead and 
wtO. " cot up," with my mone^ neatly divided aoKmg 
my nephews and nieces, than sitting here, with soy feet 
upon yoar sofa, giving you unpahstable advice ; and 
yon Bssdnft say yon don't, because such a remark 
wovli BflA tmpess me with an idea of your good 
eense or yeraoty. Well, notwithstanding all this, 
yoB will find me behave as handsomely, perhaps, in 
the main, and practically, madam— prarfica% — as any 
mmtinietitiJ beiieyoleDoe-monger of yo«r or any ottier 



woman's acquaintance. I am come down here 
expressly to accept the guardianship of yourself and 
your fanuly.' 

'God bless yon. Brother Ingram,' murmured the 
widow tremuleusly. * My dearest Benjy always told 
me' 

'Then, if he did, madam,' interrupted the ether, 
' although I do not know what he told you in this 
particular instance, take my advice, and forget it 
from this moment. Benjamin was not the sort of 
man to make obeeryati<His to be remembered. The 
chances are fifty to one that the remark which you 
were about to r^eat is destitute of practical tnzfiL' 

' He always told me, I was going to say, brother, 
that y oil hiid a flood heart at oottom, although yon 
took a strange jMeasure in concealing the fact from 
yovar fellow-creatures.' 

'Then all I can say, madam, is,' replied the un- 
abashed merchant, 'that such a statement of your 
late husband regarding me was a most unwarrantable 
impertinence. However, what I hav^jgot to ny is 
this : These children of yours must not he brou^^ up 
in idleness. Yon must be content to live in a style 
quite different from that to which yon have b^n 
hitherto accustomed. I daresay, you will think it 
yery hard if I say, you must leave this cottage, this 
scene, these comforts, and exchange theuLfcr iiutiffiBr-' 
ent quarters — in the neighbouriioodof €k)lden Square^ 
for instance.' 

' I am prepared for any sacrifice, Broiiier Iqgram.' 

' Saerioce ! madam — ^why, the woman's mad I — ^I 
speak ef a nec^Mity. When starvation lockM in 
at the window, ana the sheriflPs effioer conies to 
the back-door, the debtor is not said to make a 
sacrifiiee, I reckon, although his goods are generally 
sold at one.' 

Mrs Benjamin Arbour was not in sufficiency good 
spirits to appreciate Hm jeu d'emrit as it deserved, 
but her brother-in-law enjoyed it hugely. When dull 
men do make a joke, however feeble, they are net apt 
to let it escape in a hurry, but mouth it about as a 
diild dees a lollipop, until the observers are some- 
times a little sick of the exhibition ; but^ on the other 
hand, its effect is molli^^g to the dull man. Mr 
Ingram Arbour was positively dianned with this Asa- 
mot of his, whidi was not tne fimt by one which he 
had indulged in for the last five-andrforty years. 

'You kAow goods are said to be sold at a tremen- 
dous 9€urifioe^* observed he in explanation. 

Whereat Mrs Benjamin, good nring woman, affeotod 
to see the matter in its proper humorous light, and 
laughed after a fashion that nature doubtlesB resented 
bitterly. 

* What I was going to say,' continued she, * was, that 
I would leave the cottaoe to-morrow, if you thought 
it right or exx>edient tnat I ^ould do so, Brother 
Ingram ; although, of course, the memories and asso- 
ciations tiiat ha^ around this place ' 

' Well, madam, lor my part, interrupted the mm- 
chant, *I only believe in tiiose sort of fiztorca of 
which the house-agent can make some yahiation. It 
may or may not he as you say ; but tiiese sofae are 
better than horse-hair ones, and it is pleasanter te be 
your own mistress than at the mercyn semedmidben 
lodsii^-housekeeper, anyway. Thmf ore, I say, stop 
at Kose Cottage if you will, madam, and keep year 
girls and younger boys about you. Nay, Letitia, I 
want no tlianks ; and, indeed, you might have stofped 
here without my permission, as far as that soes, until 
your tluree thousand pounds had dwindled a,WKj to 
nothing. However, 1 11 see that that doesn^ li^W^ 
if 3^a']l only leave matters entirely in my haodft 
Adolphus shall return to town with me, and begin 
work in my office at once ; and the other boys maf 
follow him in time — if you are not too proud, that is, 
to permit the young gentlemen to engage in mercan- 
tile pursuits. You £ive a hundred a year of year 
own to spend, mind, and if yonr ontgoingr ahrndd 



come to doable that siim, or even a little over, I will 
pay the snrplcis, Letitia — as your nearest relative 
and natural protector — out of my own pocket. Nay, 
madam, I am not a guardian angel, nor, as I should 
imagine, anything like it, and I tell you honestly that 
I had much rather that every person should support 
his own wife and children, by personal exertions when 
alive, and by bequest after his death ; but, however 
others have neglected their duty, madam, you wiU not 
find me shirk mine.' 

It may be easily imagined that the widow grate- 
fully accepted this proposition, and gladly intrusted 
to Mr Ingram Arbour the treasurersnip of her little 
fortune and the control of her affairs. This matter 
finished, her brother-in-law was proceeding to give 
her his views concerning the management of her 
household, which, as emanating from a bachelor who 
had been under the conduct of housekeepers for a 
quarter of a century, would doubtless have proved 
original and interesting in a high degree, when he 
beoune suddenly conscious that uie attention of Mrs 
Benjamin Arboiu* — in spite of the engrossing nature 
of the topic — had wandered somewhere else. 

* Doubtless, madam,* he interposed, with an offended 
air, 'you know your own affairs best, and perhaps 
after all, I have been only officious in meddling with 
them ; but .1 do think some little outward respect, 
some semblance of attention, is due' 

' Dear cood Brother Ingram,' cried poor Mrs Arbour, 
clasping her hands in terror, but still with an air of 
distracted preoccupation, *I meant no disrespect to 
YOU, our benefactor. Heaven knows ; but I thought I 
heard my poor dear Dicky calling for his food.' 

* And is it possible,' broke forth Mr Ingram Arbour, 
in a passion, * that what I have to say, nuidam, upon 
any subject, can be of less consequence than your 
confounded canary and his chickweed ! ' ^ 

'Cananr, brother! chickweed! why it's my poor 
little Dick wanting his mamma. Don't you hear nim 
setting up his tiny cry ?' 

* Since you call my attention to it, madam,' growled 
the affectionate uncle, * I am sorry to say I do. But 
what on earth did you give it such a name as Dick 
for? Luckily, we have got through all oar more 
important business, or I do not doubt yon would 
have left me for that little brat at any time ; as he 
grows older he must, however, be taugnt to wait for 
his betters. — By the by, Letitia,' added Mr Ingram, 
as his sister-in-law was leaving the room, ' since you 
have given me the control of your affairs, remember 
that wat man Wilson leaves his cottage if his rent 
is delayed one hour beyond the 3 1st of next month. 
I '11 £mperor of Morocco him, trust me ! ' 

CHAPTER IV. 
A COMMKBCIAL ACADIUT. 

From babyhood to childhood, Dicky Arbour grew 
up the pet of the Rose Cottage housdiold, and that 
notwithstanding what Nurse fiachel was wont to 
designate his * Bttle tantrums.' He was accustomed 
when provoked — ^firom the age of two till four or 
thereabouts — ^to stiffen himself out like a ramrod, cast 
himself backwards upon the floor, without the least 
regard for the shock that was thereby inflicted upon 
his youthful head, and, in that recumbent position, to 
scream like a locomotive. The best cure for this 
malady was found to be the giving him a very soft 
and comfortable pillow to lie upon, and treating him, 
in all respects, like an elderfy invalid of irritable 
temperament. He would then presently get up, 
toddle to his mother, and, hiding his curly head m 
her lap, observe in smothered tones : * Me so torry, 
mammy ; me dood now : me won't do it never no 
more ; me won't indeed.' 

Everybody said — save Sister Maria, who merely 
observi^ that he wanted whipping, and Brother 
Johnnie, who never expressed an opinion upon any 



subject imconnected with himself — that Dicky was a 
charming child, and only required a little manage- 
ment. Doctor Neversleep in particular — who had 
been pressed into being his godpapa, since the vein 
of natural and kindred sponsors had Ions been 
exhausted in the Arbour family — ^took vast deught in 
him, and taught him many things which his mother 
would scarcely have thought of. From his dictation, 
the infant pupil learned to express astonishment and 
admiration in such terms as, * O my doodney ! ' (for, 
O my goodness!), *Idn't it dolly?' (for. Isn't it 
jolly ?) and ' Here 's a bessie dark, upon my oiror ! ' 
(for, Here's a blessed lark, upon my honour!) At 
which lisping wickednesses, mamma would h(^d up 
her finger reprovin^y, and look supematurally 
solemn, till the offendu^ party destroyed her gr a vity 
by recommending Doctor ifeversleep for corporal 
punishment instead of himself. *Ip my niuighty 
godpa, mammy ; don't ip me.' 

In due course arrived that dark hour, inevitable, as 
it seems, to civilised childhood, when the government 
of love is superseded by that of fear, and home and 
friends are left for school and strangers. Dick — 
whose knowledge of foreign languages had been con- 
fined to a littie French, laid on upon him so lovingly 
and lightly by Sister Maggie, that it was more like 
French polish — was not sent to the same seminary 
where Adolphus had had his mind ennobled and 
refined by the rudiments of classical literature, but to 
the commercial academy of Messrs Dot and Carriwon, 
of which Johnnie had been already an alumnoB for 
several years. In establishmejits of the former class, 
the As in prauenti is perhaps the most hateful task 
that is imposed upon a reasonable boy, while in 
those of the latter the abominable rule called Practice 
distracts the youthful mind most painfully. W^ 
sings the Poet of Educational Life : 

Multiplication is vexation ; 
Addition is as bad — 

for although the second statement is an exaggerated 
one, it is obviously only introduced with an eye to the 
final line, wherein lies the whole gist of the stanza : 

The Rule of Three does puzzle me ; 
But Practice drives me mud/ 

It almost drove poor Dick mad, and certainly set him 
violently against the profession to which such a 
stumbling-block was declared to be a necessary step. 
He would sit and suck the sponge which was attached 
like a horrid parasite to every suite, for hours, di>eain- 
ing of his mother or foot-ball, until the cane d the 
wrathful pedago^e would awaken him to the real 
miseries of his situation — to life and aliquot parts. 
This * Practice ' — w^ch never made Dick perfect — ^is 
certainly worse than the As in prcesenHy vndch there 
is no absolute necessity to understand at aU. The 
scratch and spurt of pens, too, that pervade the 
school-room devoted to the more liberal studies, are 
far less ofiiensive than that perpetual grind of the 
slate-pencils, which, greasy with tears and perspira- 
tion, have to be sharpened with the knife contimudly, 
an operation which they resent with hideous screeches. 
There was another method of doing this which Dick 
much preferred, since it was an excuse for leaving his 
work — retiring from Practice — and approaching the 
fire in cold weather : he would spit upon the end of 
his pencil, and grind it upon the hearthstone with 
mucn persistency, until it acquired the finest possible 
point ; when it would break off suddenly, and then 
he would be^;in again. 

What noises, what smells, what an atmosphere 
filled that entrance-chamber of Oommercial Learning, 
and what a splendid vision to many young mincb 
must have been the Junior Clerk's office that would 
one day receive them into its bosom, where the peda- 
gogue ceases from troubling, and the lazy read tiieir 
newspapers, for ever, over pots of half and half I 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



25 



Viewed from the mercantile ^int of view, Richard 
Arbour was rather a lazy boy, it must be confessed ; 
but beheld from the loftier elevation of Muscular 
Christiamty, he was dilisent and assiduous to a very 
high degree. If the ^ytime of boys — as is the 
modem faiUi — is of equal consequence with their 
schooltime, there was certainly nobody who made a 
more profitable use of his than Dick. H^ was the most 
distinguished foot-ball player, for his height and 
weight, in the establishment, and the most dr^ided by 
the foe ; for, as in medieval warfare, the very noblest 
knights in armour of purest gold were liable to be 
miserably discomfited bv half-naked wretches who 
would creep under their horses' bellies and stab them, 
so the taJlest of his opponents were not seldom 
hurled to earth by this pigmy inserting himself 
between their lees. Moreover, as the aforesaid canaille 

E'Ued life and limb (although, because they were not 
i-bom, the snobbish chroniclers of the time make 
^ t of . that circumstance) at least as much as the 
mailed kniehts, so Dicky Arbour would recklessly 
cast himseS down, like some Juggernaut devotee, 
between the ball and any titanic foe who was about 
to take a good high kick at it, and receive the iron com- 
pliment in his own ribs. This is a species of devotion 
rarely appreciated except by one's own side. 'The 
ranks of Tuscany ' — for school-boys are not a generous- 
hearted race by any means — not only 'forbear to 
cheer' such acts, but sometimes cherish an ignoble spite 
against the heroic little Roman. 

Thus, Mr WiUiam Dempsey, a young man of 
seventeen, and the captain, upon a certain occasion, 
of the opposite party, took it very Ul that he was 
not only balked of his kick, but toppled headlong all 
his live feet eleven of length by the intrepid and 
horiasontal Dick. When the battle was over, and 
nothing beyond a little brown paper and vinegar ought 
to have been required by a magnanimous foe, the 
heart of Dempsey desired vengeance, and his hand 
(in a quiet way, and with no reference to foot- 
ball« of course) was not slow to take it upon the 
very first opportunity. This ^rannical conduct was 
resented by poor Dick, by dee<u, which, measured by 
the indignant feelings of the doer, were tremendous, 
but whicn, physically considered, did not much hurt 
Dempsey, and only provoked further cruelties; and 
by words of the most outrageous character, which 
were overheard (easily enough— for Dick had the best 
of longs) by the schoolma^er, and TOocured him a 
sound caning. This second wrong (as Dick considered 
it) smote the victim in a more sensitive part than that 
on which the mere blows had descended. The imf ortu- 
nate lad had not a logical mind — as we have seen in his 
difficult of deling wi^ aliouot parts — and was, more- 
over, too amply provided witn the savage instinct called 
Sense of Justice, which, in the case of Na 5 of a poor 
family, is not a ^ift which a good-natured fairy would 
biin^ to a baptisuL It seemed to him because Mr 
Camwun had caned him for swearing without inquiry 
into the previous circumstances, which were sucn as 
to have made a saint swear, as poor Dick thought 
— wiko know less about saints than if he had been 
brought np at Eton, where they are greatly revered, 
and produce half -holidays — ^that authority was arrayed 
upon the. side of tyranny, and perhaps even that it 
was only another name for it. Mr Carriwux^ imagined 
that he was caning bad words out of the lad, when he 
was in reality caning bad thoughts into him. We do 
not say that he should not have caned him — it was 
bitterly cold weather, and even a schoolmaster must 
needs warm himself when the opportunity offers — but 
that he should have done something else as welL 
The matter being unexplained, Dick Arbour became 
a bad. boy in the eyes of the master, while his resent- 
ful oandnct against the Titan Dempsey earned him a 
reputation, scarce less unenviable, for 'bumptiousness' 
among the boys.. His impatience of a tyrumy under 
which they liad all of them suffered, more or less, 



without complaint, was naturally distasteful ; village 
Hampdens are rarely popular; and to be so, it is 
above all things necessary that they should be 
successful and uncaned. 

Matters being in this unfavourable position, a match 
at snow-balling between one-half of tne school against 
the other half, with Dempsey commanding the oppo- 
site faction, was the very thing for Dick to enter mto 
with ardour. For us, who are getting on in years^ 
and who wear spectacles, there is, however, scarcely a 
more repulsive amusement : next to being inadvertently 
launched upon a slide on the foot-pavement, and 
beholding, as our legs are leaving us in different 
directions, a crowd of miscreants bearing down upon 
us with a hideous velocity, there is nothing more 
objectionable than to find ourselves in a snow-ball 
scrimmage. The extreme hardness of the missilefl 
themselves is one consideration; but that is trifline 
(in the eyes of a philosopher), compared to the exhi- 
bition of vindictive passion wliich accompanies their 
flight : the visage of each combatant betrays a wish 
that he were throwing Greek fire or Armstrong shells 
instead of snow, and seems to grudge every moment 
that is spent in the manufacture of his diabolical 
weapon. We have seen one of such savages so maddened 
by tne artificial avalanche, as to rush npon a small 
boy who had had nothing whatever to do with it, and 
rub a handful of snow into the back of his neck with 
an energy which, if it had been frost-bitten, would 
have been benevolence itself. Not a few dogs — whose 
characteristic, as the poet teUs us, is delight in strife 
— are similarly stirred to the depths of their brutal 
nature by snow, and will roll and srowl in it, with 
evident regret that the formation of their fore-paws 
forbids their using it as an engine of destruction. It 
is probable, if certain theories be true, that these 
animals may have once bee& school-boys, who have 
perished in their early youth in a snow-scrimmage. 

' They've been and broken my nose,' cried Johnnie 
Arbour on a sudden, exhibiting that feature to hia 
brother ii) a flattened condition, and with a percep- 
tible dint where the snow-shell had exploded and 
burst in all directions over his face, like the radia- 
tions of a broken window : ' they've broken my 
nose, Dick, and I am sure they're putting stones in 
their snow-balls.' 

' The deuce they are ! ' cried Dick, whose caning 
had not cured him of strong language — ' then two can 
play at that game, Johnnie ; so here goes.' 

The brothers threw together. 

A great cry immediately arose from the opposite 
ranks. A scanty mizzle succeeded to the storm of 
snow-balls, and then altogether ceased. General 
William Dempsey had fallen backwards, as falls on 
Mount Avemus the thunder-smitten oak, and a 
crowd gathered around him, exclaiming : ' Dempeey's 
eye's out!' 'Dempeey's blinded with a stone!' 
* Dempsey 's dead !' 

Johnnie Arbour turned as white as his shirt-collar 
— and indeed whiter, for the occurrence happened 
upon a Saturday — ' I threw no stone, Dick,' said he. 

Dick lost his colour too, as he replied : ' I 'm very 
Sony, I'm sure, but I didn't aim at him in par- 
ticular.' 

'Who put a stone into his snow-ball?' cried the 
captain of Richard's side. 

'I did,' responded the lad sturdily; 'the fellows 
upon Dempsey s side began it though.' 

An indignant hiss broke forth from those about the 
injured youth, and especially from such as had been * 
guilty of the practice complained at The rest were 
naturally angry that poor Dempsey should have been 
even alluded to by young Bumptious, at such a time. 
He had been often heara to vow that he would be 
even with Demi)sey, and he had now, it was evident, 
taken advantage of a public scrimmage to avenge a 
private wrong. Even those of his own side who were 
yet about hma, fell away from him ; and preaentlyf 



96 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



Brother Johmue, after a few momtntB of vadllatioii, 
hjma his head down, and alinked away, leaving poor 
JDdcK standing alone. 

There was much hardship, and wron^ and aonow 
lymg between Richard Arbour and that rest which 
at last befalleth t^ most weaiy oi us ; but perhi^ he 
was not doomed to experience a moment so intensely 
wretched as itat present one, when friend ana 
Iffother had forsaken him, and he stood alone in the 
^yground of Messrs Dot and Camwun — the Black 
Sheep of that you&ful fold. 

SYRIAN SILK AND SILK-REELING. 

Did you ever, in the streets of London, obserre some 
of the retinue of the Turkish ambaasadDzs with candy 
■ilk boehecLS or handkerchiefs girt round their heads, 
or rich shawls encircling their waists ? Both these are 
mostly the produce of Syrian labour ; for, of a truth, 
ailk is the staff of life to all cIsssph and creeds inhabit- 
ing that land, from tiie ancient shores of Trre, over 
Leoanon, right sway to the fertile and lovely plains 
of AatiodL A universal patron-saint amongst all 
tlwse people would be that stout-bearted old mook 
— if th^ nad ever heard about him, whieh they have 
not — who, witii hollow staff in hand, well piled up 
with silk- worm eggs, at risk of life, wended his weary 
way ixum. distant China over HSnte bleak steppes of 
TlBitary, and oo conveyed to Europe the muck-trea- 
snrod secret of the avaricioos Celestiala. Then only 
monarchs revelled in the luxury of silk garments ; 
now the poorest and most ill-usea peasant in labanon, 
and in the plains o£ North Syria, would deem, himsdf 
a disgraee to the village if his wife could not sport a 
new silk draw at least once a year — on Easter Day 
— and he himself a girdle of the same material ; veiy 
gav, indeed, as regaids variety of coloun. 

No sooner has the short-lived winter blown its 
last gale from the westward, which, occurs early in 
Februaiy, than the whole of animated nature seems 
to wake up by conmion oensent into life and activity. 
Peasants who, like their cocoons, have been ahnoiit 
hermetically sealed up in Uteir huts for the last three 
months, enter vifiorouslv upon the labours and the 
duties necessarv tor the forthcoming spring and sum- 
mer. The birds, who have never quittea the {dace, 
although so long silent, now burst forth into songs of 
praise, and trees and shrubs are covered with. buds. 
Amongst the earliest of the latter is the mulberry, 
which is no sooner clad with delicate leases, so 
appropriate for their food, than the mites of silk- 
worms issue by countless thousands from the egra, 
Mid are immediately plaoed in small nmnd &bt 
baskets covered with clay, where they are forthwith 
supplied with the tender leaves of the mulberry. The 
peasant and his family have now conmienced the 
duties <^ the year. As day l^ dtay ibe leaf increases 
in size, so the silk- worms rapidly grow in proportion, 
till from having been abnost invisiue mites, md then 
the sise of ants, in the course of a week they attain 
to neariy half an inch in lencth, and have to be 
transferred to baskets of donbfo l^e sine of the £rst 
ones. Meanwhile the peasant and his wife have had 
no sinecures. Whilst the former has been busr in 
remedying what damages the khooka may have 
received auring the winter gales, the latter, aided by 
her children, has mthered at intenrala the necessary 
supply of food for ue womis ; being careful first that 
the leases should be perfectly dry, becaoae one drop 
•of dew amongst the leaves would be fatal ta a whole 
basketful of worms. The khooks above referred to 
are lon^, narrow, sli|^ structures of twigs and laarres 
intertwmed, and supported at intervals by stout stems 
of old and useless mulberry-trees ; while the roofing 
is composed of thick laycn of ruiiies, so plentiful in 
the marshy lands, which are perfectly impervious to 
lain ; for, on the one hand, whilst the worms must be 
effMstoally protected from, rain «r dews, on the other 



hand, they require a free circulation of air^ a point 
which is attained by the net- work slrucUip e <» the 
aides of the khook. The interior consista of a nnm- 
ber of shelves on either side, whidi are made oi a 
species of sUt-reed matwork, and rise one above 
another in tiers of from three to four, according to tiM 
size of the khook, the lowest being at least two £eei 
from the fioory and the uppermost about a foot fran 
the zoof. These shelves are called hatoar%f ' and 
according to their number is reckoned the wealth of 
the proprietor, and the quantity of silk they will pn>- 
duoe ; thus, in speaking ol any particular smlbeoy- 
plantation, the natives, in bargaining, regulate its 
worth by saying : ' Oh, it has omy so many botoon, 
and. can therefore only produce such a number of 
rcUiloa of silk;' the lotolo being equivalent to five 
and a half pounds Enriish. 

To these khooks, aner the expiration of two weeks 
or so, tiie worms are removed, and spread upon Ae 
batoors above alhided to, which have first beoi care- 
fully and thickly lined with mulbenrv-leavea, to 
prevent the worms from falling through. There is 
no fear of their straying over the sides, or nl-hwihWig 
frem one shelf to another; silk-wonns an instinc- 
tively home-loving creatures, and will never sf their 
own accord budge an inch from where thoy are first 
plaoed, until the time arrives when they are about to 
become oocoons. Soon after this final transfer of the 
worm, commences thatstrange phenomenon e€ apparent 
utter lifelessness, which lasts for foriy-eight noaia, 
durinff which interval the creature is ^^u^ging its 
first uun, having outgrown its india-rubber oapaaitie& 
The natives calllhis the first aoante, or fast; and the 
Christian part ol them, eiq>ecially the Greeks, look 
upon this as a certain indication that the worms are 
of the same creed as themsdves. During these 
seauiffiij which are three in number, at intervals ol 
about a fortni^t each, the worms require no food, 
and the peasant occupies himself in the tillage c^ 
the grouiul, whilst' his family devote themselves to 
domMtic pursuits. As they approach maturity, the 
appetite of the worms becomes prodigions, and eariy 
and late has the peasant to labeur, kipping down 
huge branches of the mulberries, till wnat was a 
verdant and beautiful plantation some six weeks 
before, is now a wild^neeB of leafless stems and 
brandies. Bat so coa^^enial is the cHmate, and so 
fertile the soil, that in less than a month after- 
wards, fresh sprouts are covered with tender leaves, 
so that in autumn so tiiick is the f (^age, so stout the 
brmohes, that the stranger would never guess how 
recently they had been lopped. When the first leaves in 
winter beu^ to fall, then are the trees anin denuded 
of their foliage. This time, however, uie branches 
are spared, and the leaves gathered by hand, and 
storea up a^ninst winter, when, with the manure of 
the worms, mey serve as fodder for the oxen, which 
would otherwise staxvei The branches Ioi^>ed off at 
fint form a vast and jdcntiful supply of firewood for 
tfaepeasanfa family. 

Tne third and last soame, or fast of the worms, 
is the signal for the peasant to bestir himself, and 
proenre as much brusnwood as he can, which, when 
dried in the sun, he throws lightly upon tiie batoors. 
During thia intorval, the worms have become of a 
tranflparsnt golden colour, and the moment they 
wake up again, for the first time in their lives assume 
a migrata^ disposition. Up they crawl actively 
over this bramble, down tho next, until each one 
has selected a fitting spot amongst the twigs for 
forming its ooooon ; and very wonderful is it to watch 
the nicety and care with whidi they weave round 
themselves that impenetrable texture which consti- 
tutes the cocoon. I say very wonderful is it to watch 
them, but the peasant won't allow m so to do : the 
BfritByeiBYoaaTeadSjalotae; so, to guard against thii, 
he locks the door, and ffings against it from outside 
a huge mass of clay. From ths act he also divines 



J 



OHAMBBBffS JOURNAL. 



wbetber the hBirrat will be jiropitioiia or otherwise.'. 
If the day adhercB en matte, it lb a gnvl omen ; ii it 
drops off partly, a bod one; if the iMals falla to the 



And now. whilst the little industriaua worms are 
luu-d at work weaving their own wimliDg-alieeta, the 
peatajitty are not one whit less busy prepcu^ag for 
them a cniel death. Huge, aotiquc-IonluQg, duEt; 
old Wheels, which have been hidden for the last twelve 
numtha, are bronght to light again, and bnubed iip ; 
the temporary fomace of last year ia repaired, the 
reteryoir of w&t«r fresh lilted with clay, tlie whole 
neonth appantns set op, and the peaaaut's rickety 

. ofeed 
At last the aoipicions morning urirea, 
and with many praysn and ceremouies, the door of 
the khook is (qiened, when men, women, and chililren 
«t to woik, deiinding the briers of the cocoons, which 
are piled in scores upon scores of baskets. Then the 
moutoom, or silk-harTeB^ conunenoea in lif^it-down 
earnest. 

It i9 n glorioui and a happy sight, in that plea- 
sant numtry, at this peculiar ncntin of the yaar, to 
witnen Oa smile thwt all nature siirnMi to wear. The 
whole air is redolent with the odoma of oountlees 
iweet-aceoted Sowers, the whole earth cajpeted with 
cnwrald, brilliantly bespan^ed witii tiny flowaa of 
vuisua hues ; suidy botterflieB are fUtting to and 
fro from WDodmne to woodbine; fruit-treea are in 
bloBem, and myrinds of song-birds are waking the 
■riinna in ralley and dale ; and here, seated under the 
ihai Una cuopj of heaven, are jncturesque groups 
liralting tine birds in their rrasrlw song^ and accom- 
fsnying theniaelvsi with the whii cf the huge wheals 
^on Wdeh thn' are wiadini; off the alk-womu. One 
taiBB the wheel with nnaoiiui handle ; anotiur feeds 
it wiUi the woima ; another stin up the woDna, besng 
reeled with something like a iohoclniastar's birch-md ; 
a fourth feeda the fire ; a fifth aripplies the baain with 
water as it becontes exhanated ; a aicth rmovatea 
tiia basket with freah cocoons; whilfit near W, 
seated on a mat, are two or three occupied in pick. 
tng the atuff from off the ontaide of the cocoons; 
and thiH nulterial is known as eotton-silk. They 
laboor hard and long, bat with good-will, during the 
tlrBl week after the cocoons are formed, since they 
obtain 30 per cent more silk now than they wifl 
after that date, because then the cocoons hove to be 
atifled, to prevent the mothg— into which they are 
n^jidly being convirted— boring throngh the cqcoqdi^ 
and so rendering them utterly valnelens and unavail- 
able. The proceis of stifling is with the cocoon as 
simpis as is Ute system of reeling. Spread oat npon 
mats, the oocoons are exposed to the fierce best of the 
mid-day sun for a, day or two, being carefully turned 
at intervals dorins tJie process, and Saa answcis 
quite as well as the ovens so indispensable in less 
congenial olimca where the silk-worm is n.'ared 
After this ]iroceai, the lilk-reelem take it more easily, 
and relapee into their uiental apathy. They know 
now tint were they to work ever so hud, they cannot 
afaalnct one thread, more of silk from the auffocatcd 
onrnana, and there 19 no fear of the moths boring 
Hot way tbnnigb. Day by day, however, the soene 
hmtTwa moro picturesque, u ^den feetoooB of 
newly reeled silk are austiended from branch to 
brwQCh to dry, and set off the beantifol folioce of tlie 
amige and the lemon trees. The atench, however. 
bcorawi intolerable from the heaps of dead and 
reeled-off cocoona, and Bwaliows np all the swBet 
odonrs that nntuic has planted sroand. By this 
vuthod of reeling, they are supposed to obtain about 
one pound of silk from irvery five am) a haU of live 
cocoons, and just half that amount from thoae that 
h*ve been stifled The silk is all reeled off by the 
middle of June, when it ia immediate s<^ on tiie 



Kjiot U' lirnkcrs, who have been hovering about like 
vultures lor the last few weeks, and these again 
dispose ot it to merchants, who ship it for Lyon and 
othiM European porta, where, under flkiliul hands, it ia 
Boon convertud into that costly material which 
ladiea love to wear. In the interim, the oocoons 
left for seed have been perforated by the beantifnl 
short-lived, whito, velvety-lookinH moths into which 
the Bilk -worm has been converted. By instinct, the 
males and females come together ; the former die off 
within an hour or so ; the latter may hnger on for a 
day, io which inCa-VHl, on linen spread for their tape- 
cial behoof, they deposit an incredible SBiannt of 
egga. which conatitute the peasant's supply of seed 
for the next scoBon. When these an perfectly dry, 

auapf^niled from ti 

they will wmain undiatorbed 

e bam 
le quantity and quality of Syrian ailk by 
toe ereonon of £uriipean mctoHes and the introdnc- 
tion d( European machinery. At one of these—the 
factmyof a t^endmaQ (^L de Fortales) — thooaanda 
of mihappy and tiiBtive Maronitts fbtind refuge 



THE CURIOSITIES OF CIVILISATION. 
Teat wonderful economy of manufacture which is 
rapidly depriving the word ' rubbish ' of its m p^f iin g , 
and which puts the moat apparently hopeless material 
throogh so many pniceaaea, until not even the paper- 
manafactnrer can make anything out of what is left, 
haa cl late extended iteelf to periodical Ittatatoie. 
Formerly, iriien a profenional man contributed to a 
review or a magivdne, be either concealed the fact 
altogether, as likely to prejudice hia clients against 
bijn, or was content witli that limited cyclone of 
reputatioB— Uio likeliest, however, of all, to sink an 
JU-baLaated ciaft — which blows only from one's own 
relatives and acquaintance. But now Ijial society 
has grown wiser, and a lawyer is not thm^t much 
the woree of for giving us a Biography, or a physiciBn 
for recording his Notes of Travel, all men are hasten- 
ing to acknowledge their intimacy with literature, 
and to publicly recognise their neglected o&pring. 
which aforetime were snSered to stray asiong the 
periodicals, nameless, and even fathered upon the 
wrong penooi. Pcriuips that last reason has been 
the most efficient ia compelling tho soft self- 
impeachment fnm 80 many professional bosoms. 
They could have stood by calmly enough and seen 
their little ones treated with contempt and con- 
tumely, for they invited sach possible treatment by 
tlieir pubhc a^ipearauce, but, valueless or not, they 
were still Oieirt — a poor thing, hut mine own — and to 
bebdd a staikngar patting then on their heads witli 
paternal complacency, was more than they could bear. 
Oar system of anonymous publication is exceedm^y 
prolific of this sort of literary pretender. Within our 
own private range of acquaintance, we know more than 
one inteUectaal-lDcking individual, who, thanlcs to a 
hiifh forehead, and an artistic manner of knitting it, 
1ms a reputation for writing articles in the Timet, the 
Ediidmrg/L, and (especially) in the Watimntbrr StBieic, 
which the edtturs themaelvea by no means identify as 
his. It ia not neceBary for a person thus gifted by 
nature to assert himself categoEioally as the author of 
this or that article — although even such Btatements 
are not nnexampled, and wben a man once begins to 
make tbcm, he rarely stops, until he meets with tiie 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



real Simon Pure, when there is a 'ditliciillj ' - /"f ti 
■hake of the heoJ, nith u amile C« fallow, will uiswer 
the SBmfl purpoie ; or, still better, & Bemi-depre- 
eaXmry veriral deui-iL Wc should toy, judging frum 
oar own p^perience, tliat in the case of all anonymous 
literary auctPawB, there are, to evt-ry work, at least 
a Boore of sappfflUtitiouB authors. Uutil the Reprint 
cornea out, with the writer's name, anybody, is of 
coorie at liberty to aiaume its paternity, aad if none 
does cmne oat, to keep it But in the meantime, all 
kinda of unpleasant things take place. 

The practices of tbe«e impootoni create auapicioua 
ot the dum of the real iiroprietor. We remember to 
have heard of some clever amateur-dniughtai 
had an ■ - ^ ■ » .■ ^ ^- r , ■ 

derahl 
Life i; 

in that very joumaL One particular picture, 
jedged by the gentleman himself to be his v 
eicessivcly extolled, so that in it his provincial fame 
may be said, to have culminated. Consiiler, therefore, 
his inilJAnant dismay, and the ill-concealed delight of 
his goiM-natured fnenda, when the Great Deiinentor 
pnbluhed his collected sketches with this very draw- 
mg included among them '. ' This humbug, then. 
has never drawn a pioture in Punch in bis life,' was 
the univerMil verdict upon the unhappy amateur. 
Whereas the fact was, he had really been a can- 
trihntor— although not to the eitent which was 
believed at home— and the work of art in question 
bad beea included by mistake among the Great 
Contributor's own. Such a, case as this, however, is 
elceedingly rare, and the repntations which are blasted 
by the reprints of what were previously anonymous 
wticles, for the most part, ooly get their just deserts. 
The appearance of the Curioiiliai of CiBUimtion ' will 

?it an end to a good many famous folks of this sort, 
he hand that has lightened the Qiiarterli/ for the lost 
five yean, and kept it afloat upon the ocean of popu- 
larity in spile of the general density of tta contents, 
ii at hut known. Those articlGS of present attraction 
upon Advrrtitenirnla. the Zoologiaii Oanteni, the 
.London CominiMarial, the Electric Tete^mph, and the 
Plaice ami the Thieta, which have brought it abreast 
of the age. may now all be safely attributed to Dr 
Andrew Wynter. For our own parts, we generally 
prefer a profeiiBional to an omateor writer, and rather 
mistrust such essays as are composed ' in the intervals 
of buainees ; ' but certainly these could hanily have 
been better done. Dr Wynter has accomplished the 
diflicult task of writing fretihly and vividly upon 
subjects familiar to all, and on which everybody has 
had their thought, and very many of us uieir ' say.' 
He has spared, too, neither time nor pains in acqiur- 
ing the most minute information. What reams of 
ancient newspapers must he have dived into— among 
notices of runaway Negro boys, such as Hogarth 
pointed ; of mounted guides to point the way to 
Bristol, such as Fepya writes of ; of apprenttoes miss- 
ing, and ' si^>poscd to be shun in some of those tights 
in Surrey ' during the Commonwealth ; and of that 
new Uquor 'called by the Chinessus 'Tcha, and by 
other nations Tay, also Tee'— before he uamo upon 
this dog -advertisement of the time of Charles II., 
in the Mrrtiiriiu PolUiciu, and written, there seems 
little doubt, with his own royal band. It is the second 
notice of the loss of the animal, and is printed very 
prominently in large Italic ty^te. 

' We must adi upon gou agiiin/or a Blaek Don, beticeea 
a Orey-hovtul «nd a SpanM, no ahife ahout him, oeeit/ 
1 ilreat oa hU Brett, and Tagl n lUOe bolbft. It t» 
nU Majentitt own Dog, and doiilitlaf im* tlotn, /or 
Us Dog tnu not bom nor bred in England, and would 

• Curioiiliti of Cicilaaliim. Beprlnud from t>ie Uwirlirly 
and OliKlmrgh giana. 67 Aadieir W;Dlcr, M,D. Uardirlcllc, 



II- 1- r j'or^ikf l-i-f iliutei; ll'Ao»o«¥r jfnrfes /lim may 
oejiiaiKi any ai WhU^iaS.for tiieDog lEiubettrrhnown 
at CouH than thow alio «lt^e him. iVUi thry nerxr iexwe 
robbing IJtt MajeiUs} mint he not ierp a dogf Till 
Doyi flan {Uioit^i betlrr Hum aome tniof^c) ia tie 
only jJact vrliieh nobody offer* to brg.' 

Dr Wynter's intention in his first essay is to 
draw out, as a thread from some woollen fabric, a 
continuous line of advertisements from the earlieat 
age of the newspaper press til] the present : and by 
BO doing, to shew how distinctly, from its dye, the 
pattern of the age throngh which it mns is rc^^- 
sented ; and in uis he more or less succeed!. We 
should be astonished now-a-days to see in the 7'imra 
a notice from the Gazrtif, headed Buckingham Palace. 
such as this in the Public Inl^ligfonr of 1664 : 

'Whstkoall, Slay 14, 1664. His Sacred Majesty, 
having dcobireJ it to be his Itojal will and pnrrose 
to continue the healing of bis people for the Evil 
during the Month of ^Sy, and then to give over till 
MichaelniBs next, I am commanded to give notice 
theieof. that the people may not come up to Town 
in the Interim and lose their labour.' 
In the next year, the jiapera advertisi' quackeries 
less magniticent, for the cure of the Plague, which ia 
then devastating the capital. There ore no more 
inquiries after lockete and iieriiuned bags, and 
'tadyes' pictures set in gold;' no more publicatian 
of amorous songs ; no more offering of ten shillings 
the ounce to tempt any who are nappy enough to 
possess long daicn hair to part with it, in order that 
' perrywigges ' should be made for persona of condi- 
tion. In the time of the first George, we were a 
nation none too nice and delicate in onr tasteo, if 
we may judge from our public tsxhibitious. 'Tryals 
of 8kiU ' at his majesty's bear-garden were oommon 
bctn-een such champions as these. ' Edmund Button, 
master of the nobW science ot defence, vthu liatk laieiy 
aU down Mr Hasgit ond the Champion of the West, 
and 4 btMdet, and James Harris, on Ilerefordahiro 
man. master of the noble science of defence, who has 
fought 98 prizes and never was worsted, to exercise 
the usual weapons, at i o'clock in th» afternoon pre- 
cisely.— Posdunn, July 4, 1701.' Worse than this, wo 
encouraged pugilism among the fair sex. In a public 
journal of I72£ wc liud the following gage of battle 
thrown down and accepted : 

■ ChaLLESCE.— I, Eli/abeth Wilkinson, of (.Terhen- 
wcll, having had some words with Hannah Hjlield, 
and requiring satisfaction, do invito her to meet nie 
upon the stage, and bo» me for tbrre gnineaa; each 
woman holding lialf-a-erown iu caob hand, and tbo 
first woman that ilro]>s the nmney to lose the battle. 

' Aahweo. — I, Hannah Hylield, of Newgato Market, 
hearing of the resoluteness of Klizabcth Wilkinson, 
will not foil, Qo<l mllinq, to give her mure blows than 
words, desiring home blows, and from her no favoor : 
she may expect a good thuni]>ing ! ' 
The half-crowns in the bands were to prevent the 
ladies from scratohing one another, should uatnnJ 
disposition got the better of scientilio training. 

Let us hurry out of such times aa these into m 
softer atmosphere, and listen to tbc sedoclJTe voica 
of Mr George Robins, which charmed the oariy part 
of this present century. On one occasion, in puffing 
an estato, be ia said to have described a oertain 
ancient gallows which chanced to lie upon it as 'A 
hanging wood;' on another, he bod made the beantiea 



chanting, and found it necessary to blur it by a fault 
or two, lest it should prove ' too bright and good tor 
human nature's dady food.' ' But there are two draw- 
backs to the property.' sighed out this Halis of the 
Mart — * the litter of the roee-leaves, and the noise of 
the nigbtingalea.' 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



29 



After laying before wi a selection of the strangest 
advertisements he can pick out of the Times news- 
paper, and malicioasly disclosing the ciphers under 
Mrhich young people are sometimes accustomed to 
make love in that romantic organ, Dr Wjmter startles 
us with the sums per annum spent by certain adven- 
turous dealers, in advertising. * Professor' Holloway 
(whose modest self -commendations we remember 
to have lately met with even in an obscure Spanish 

faper) spends no less than L.90,000 ; Moses and Son, 
1.10,000 ; Rowland and Son (Macassar oU, &c.), 
L.10,000; Dr De Jongh (cod-liver oil), L. 10,000 ; 
Heal and Sons (bedstead and bedding), L.6000 ; and 
Nicholls (taUor), L.4500. 

Next to the essay to which we have been referring, 
that upon the supply of food for London is perhaps 
the most interestme. The article of greatest miport- 
ance (next to strawberries) which is produced by the 
market-^urdeners is pease. The dealers, in order to 
consult the convenience of hotel-keepers, and such as 
require a large supply for the table, keep them ready 
for the sauce-pan. There is no wonder that at mid- 
day, in Covent Garden, we see that army of amazons 
encaged in shelling pease, when we read that one 
salesman often employs four hundred at this occupa- 
tion. ' The major part of these auxiliaries belong to 
iiie poor-houses around; they obtain permission to 
go out for this purpose ; and the shilling or eighteen 
pence a day earned by some of the more expert, is 
gladly exchanged for the monotonous rations of the 
]ttirish. In the autumn, again, there will be a row 
of poor creatures, extending aloi^g the whole north 
side of the square, shelling walnuts, each person 
having two basKets, one for the nuts, another K)r the 
sbeUs, which are bought by the catsup-makers. The 
poor flock from all piuts of the town oirectly a job of 
the kind is to be had. If a fog happens in November, 
thousands of link-boys and men sprmo; up with ready- 
made torches ; if a frost occun, hunclreas of men are 
to be found on the Serpentine and other park waters, 
to sweep the ice or to put on your skates : there are, 
in the busy part of the town, half-a-dozen fellows 
ready of a wet day to rush simultaneously to caU a 
cab " for your honour ; " and ever^ crossing when it 
grows inuddy almost instantly has its man and broom. 
A sad comment this upon the large floating popula- 
tion of starving labour always to be found in the 
streets of London.' Of foreign pine-apples, nearly 
300,000 are consigned to one London house, and a 
fleet of clippers is appropriated solely to the carriage 
of this single fruit. Water- cresses do not grow neces- 
aari^ in * purling brooks,' it seems. The extensive 
Cainden Town beds are planted in an old brick-field, 
watered bj the Fleet Ditch, and owe their unusually 
luxuriant appearance to a certain admixture of the 
sewerage. Khubarb, it appears, was introduced into 
London only some forty years since by Mr Miatt, 
who sent his sons to the iBorough Market with five 
bunches of it, whereof they omy sold three. He 
continued their cultivation, however, despite the 
nniyenal sneers at his * physic pies,' and hundreds of 
tons of it are now sold in Covent Garden yearly. 
Sometimes, although very rarely, London cannot eat 
quite all that comes to its table. * As we gazed, on 
one occasion, upon the solid walls of baskets extend- 
ing down the market, crowned with parapets of peach 
and nectarine boxes, we wondered in our own minds 
whether it would ever be all sold, and the wonder 
increased as wagon after wagon arrived, piled up as 
hi^ aa the second-floor windows of the piazza. 
Venturing to express this doubt to a lazy-looking 
man who was plaiting the strands of a whip, " Blessee, 
nr," he replied, without looking up from his work, 
** the main part on 'em will be at Brumma^m by 
dinner-time. True enough, while we had been 
guessing and wondering, a nimble feUow had run to 
the telegraph and inquired of Birmingham and a few 
distant towns whether they were in want of certain 



fruits that morning. The answer being in the affirma- 
tive, the vans turned round, rattled off to the North- 
western station ; and in another hour the superfluity 
of Covent Garden was rushing on its way to fill up 
the deficiency of the midland counties. Tlius the 
wire and stesun, both at home and abroad, cause the 
supply to respond instantly to the demand, however 
wide apart the two principles may be working.' 

If some sensitive persons may have received a shock 
in learning the manner in which their water-creeses 
are grown, they will, on the other hand, be comforted 
to learn that the popular notion which ascribes the 
flavour of London porter to Thames water, is a vulgar 
error. * Not even the Messrs Barclay, who are upon 
the stream, draw any of their supply from tnat 
soui^ce, but it is got entirely from wells, and those 
sunk so deep, that they and the Messrs Calvert, 
whose brewery is half a mile distant upon the oppo- 
site side of tne river, find they are rivals for the 
same spring. When one breweiy pumps, it drains 
the wells of the other, and the mms are obliged to 
obtain their water on alternate days.' Certainly, if 
any man ever deserved the thanks of his fellows for 
purveying knowledge pleasantly, and not in that 
indigestible mass of facts and figures with which we 
are so often treated, it is Dr Andrew Wynter. He 
imderstands exactly how to pick for us the plums 
out of the mince-pie, and may with justice be entitled 
the * Little Jack Homer ' of Lif ormation. 



*VERY CHEAP, LADIES AND 

GENTLEMEN!' 

* Very cheap, sir, remarkably ; best French silk hat, 
glossy as the raven's wing ! The genuine article ! ' 

I ventured to observe that it was, if anything, a 
little too glossy. 

• All the beauty of it, sir ; exquisite finish, delicate 
polish! We are making an enormous sacrifice, of 
course, in offering them at the price ; but the fact is 
wo are so determined to clear off the whole stock 
— enlargement of premises — extension of businesa 
Where shall I send it, sir?' 

* Why, I am not quite determined ' 

. * Oh, of course, certainly. We have no necessity to 
entreat custom; but it is scarcely usual, when a 
gentleman has looked over our whole stock, to ' 

In short, I took out my purse, paid for the glossy 
best silk hat, and putting my travelling-cap into the 
crown, walked away under it Certainly, it was 
very cheap. 

' And if, sir,' said the bowing shopman, * any little 
accident should happen, a damp cloth and a cool iron 
— new again, quite ! Mudi obliged.' 

I do not think any 'little accident' happened to my 
purchase; I was not aware of anything of tiie kind, 
but certainly the bloom of the peach was transitory 
and perishing. I examined it. I caused the experi- 
ment of the damp cloth and cool iron to be tried. 
Worse and worse. I shook my head at it, and under 
it; I consulted an obscure member of the hatting 
profession, who lived in a dull court through sundry 
back-streets, and he shook hit head at it even more 
grimly. There was nothing to be done. 

My hat had but one fault : it was bought in a 
moment of weakness at a ticketer's shop — a bargain ! 
Of course, my case must be the exception, not the 
rule ; if every one's first bargain turned out to be 
suffering so unmistakably from chronic weakness, and 
a general flabbiness of constitution, as mine did, I 
opme it would be, as mine assuredly will, the last as 
well as the first But—* a bargain ! ' There is some- 
thing so delightfully suggestive about the word, so 



beautifaMy undefined, and pitnwcatiTe oi cnrionty. 
* Oh, let me see it Where did yon get it? What 
did you tdve ? I do so dote <m bargains ! * 

And if I {Hresume to tell the * doter ' tiie -stoiy of a 
hat^ I get fmubbed, and told that * it serred me light 
Tor beniff ao gnllibk.' There may be aomething in 
that, to judge from the marveUons fasdnadoQ whidi 
seems to hai^ about the word; there muM be some- 
thing in it. 

Look st the lady deeoending from her carriage with 
her friesid, at the door of Swan and Edgar^a; fnxn 
her dress and tiie air there is about her, you woidd 
never suspect it, but she is an inveterate barsain- 
hunter. She goes with her fiiend to Swan and Eagar, 
and her brougham stands mot unfreqnently b^iare 
Lewis and Au^by's, but she does her own private 
shopping in other quarters. She has a tact, too, in 
her management of these affidrs, which you would not 
suspect from her msouciaiU remarks u^on the oostlv 
silks amongst which her friend is lingermg undecideo. 
3ie Hkes to stumble u^on an estabHshment recently 
opened ; she will exanune the articles produced by 
the anxious young paroprietor with supreme indiffer- 
enee, and raise her eyebrows superdlioinly at the prioe 
indicated. Then she lifts her gold-rimmed eye-glass, 
and looks through it all round, as though she were in 
a state of bewiMerment at finding herself in such a 
place. She 'doesn't remember a meroer's house in 
this locality.' And then the proprietor says nervously, 
that it is only very lately established ; to which she 
repUes, * Indeed ! ' with a significant, * And the price of 
this embroidered robe is actually' 

infatuated youn^ tradesman! blindworm! 
He fancies this noble lady may perhaps give him her 
custom, so he sells the embroidered robe, and after 
that another valuable article, and another — ^for she 
is not satisfied with a moderate spoil — at or even 
under cost price, for the sake of securing her patron- 
age ; and a little later in the day she is to be seen 
exhibiting her bargains, and triumphing over them. 

' I shaU be ruined pretty shortly, at that rate,'' s^ 
the younff feUow, with a bluish look about the I^ 
But my hhdy did not hear that, nor perhaps woiild 
it have much distressed her if die had. 

There is another side of the bargain-question to be 
looked at. ^ 

1 should like you to come with me, my lady, and 
just glance into a place which I shall point out to 
you. Ay, gather up the nineteen flounces, and take 
out the essence-botfcle ; you will need it, I promise 
you. Take care also of these monstrous circular 
def onnities which rub so unyieldingly upon the legs 
of unfortimate foot-passengers. Put down your v^ 
— not that it is of much use, a poor flimsy thing — 
keep the vinaigrette to your nostrils, and do not 
put up the eye-glass, for you will see only too well 
without it. 

I imagine you behind me in tiiis horrible neighbour- 
hood — you, fresh from scented Belgravia — ^m this 
horrible atmosphere of all uncleanness, where the 
stohd children croudi on dirt-heaps, poking after 
some impurity which was edible once, and cramming 
it in their mouths, dismally. ThesCj children ? You 
think of the rosy little lips and the prattie, the fresh 
bright eyes and downy cheeks; of the dmnty little 
robes, the pretty kid-shoes you love to hear pattering 
about you — theM^ children ! — ^keep up the vinaigrette. 
Blood trickles from under the doors of slaughter- 
houses, scenting the air ; the reeking odours of tiie 
gin-palace min^ with it, and meet your shuddering 
seiBse ; and the very black-browed houses are rotting 
down in filth to their decay. Look at the drabbled 
women who enter those doors, and come out minus a 
gannent, but with fieiy breath and aoddened face, 
out of which the lacklustre eyes stare at you with 
a dull wonder : look at the very babies all muddled 
with gin, which the mothers pour down their throats 
to 'comfort them,' from their squalling weazened 



birth {I was going to ny * cradle]'): think of tbe 
miasmata flying on from ^le combined heaps of stale 
vegetables, nutrefying fish, flesh both stale and 
freshly killed! What marvd that disease should 
lm>od darkly over the festering allev ? 

But what has all this to do with bargains, you ask ? 
Patience, madam. I have lingered unwarrantablv 
amoottst the horrors of the Iocm we are in. This la 
the ^koe I meant you to peep into — the house oppo- 
site the gin-palace. It is not a pleasant house by any 
means; there is nothing inviting about its anpect; 
and you peroeive, on entering that the staircase xoms 
a commoii sewer for the £fferent sets of lodgers. 
Look into this room — large enough, certainly, but 
low, ill-ventilsAied, desolate, and miserable b^ond 
description. Four familiefl in this one room — ^thirty 
human beings swelterix^ here together. You hear 
the inoeasant dick of the needle, varied by an occa- 
sional oou^ and a dull moaning cry from some one 
stretched on the floor ; you sicken in the foul air of 
the place. Some of these creatures have clothes, some 
rags; some have had food to-day, some have not; 
bat they are all hungry. 

Look at them — ^f^ their arms, and wonder. Are 
they flesh and blood, or old bones covered with a 
dry, unhealthy skin ? 

'O Lord,' cries out one of these girls, 'he says 
people won't sive the prioe ! He lets them have 'em 
bargains, and ne must lower my pay. Lower it ! ' 

(9i, think what a girlhood this is ! 

-^y* you may weU gasp at the pestiferous atmo- 
sphere ; but ilunk what it is to hve in it, to slave in it^ 
to huncer, and stitch, and die in it ! 

Min^ I am not saying that all tiiis is your faulty 
my lady, or even that it is remediable, but I do say 
that every time you squabble and chaffer for bargains* 
you lay a finger heavily cm the weight, which is great 
enough already for the backs that bear it; and I 
think if you — ^representing that one half of the world 
which is at its ease and hixurious, whose great com- 
plaint is that it has nothing to do — could know 
now the other hidf lives, you would find the excite- 
ment of bargain-hunting dearly purchased by its 
possible results. 

^ To leave the sentimental — though. Heaven help 
them, it ia no sentiment to the sufferers — ^hcre is 
another species of the same tribe, a lady rather lower 
in the social scale than you, madam, of the uncount- 
able flounces. You may recognise her by the way in 
which she looks in at the shop- windows ; she exammes 
the tickets inquisitively ; she is always on the qui vive 
for an opportunitv. ff it strikes her that something 
is cheap, she will buy it, even if it is perfectiy useless 
to her. ' Such a bargain I Couldn't let that slip, you 
know.' So she wastes a lot of money by way of being 
economical. 

She i» not aristocratic in her tastes, nor particular 
about the style or locality of the shops she goes to ; 
she will even snap greedily at a window aU 'vdiite- 
washed, and with a huge 'selling off' daubed on it; 
and she is in the constant habit of bantering the 
shopkeepers, only it is done in a less polite and 
elegant manner than yours, my lady. 

'Of course we must bargain,' you say. 'Other 
people do it, and we must.' 

l5ear ladies, if that is to be a rule, you may as well 
get intexicateid. Other people do it. 

But besides the evil consequence of hurried and 
ill-paid work-peo^, do you believe in bargains ? 

1 don't a bit. There are exceptions, of course ; but 
in a general way you will be better treated, and quite 
as eoonomicaUy, if you are satisfied to pay a fair price 
for your articles, and get them because they are 
neoessary, not because they are bargains. 

I have no intention oi advocating cheating and 
trickeiy, but I confess that when i see casually a 
littie fluttering exhibition of drapery, and hear a 
' Qot it so cheap,' and then a whisper ; knowing what 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



31 



the wbkper u, I woiidevoQtfy— I oaa't hdp id^—^at 
the barrain, whatever it is, may tim out like aiy 
* gkMsy, lughly poliahed, genuine best nlk hat' 

I , -* - 

A NIGHT IN THE WOOD& 

Thb events whidi fiorm the subject of the following 
sketch oocnired during a sojoun of three months 
with a surveying-party in one of the wildest districts 
of Canada. We were occupied in tracing the course 
of a hitdierto unexplored nver, which unfolded to us 
a succession of scenic effectSy such as would havei 
delighted an artist and poet, and which they only 
coukl descnbe. 

It would be diflficutt to convey to the reader who 
has not bivouacked out in the woods, the luxury cf 
those evenings around the camp-fire. 

After a deal of story-telling, we aH turned in for , 
the nifl^t — ^that is, we rolled ourselves in our blankets, 
and f d asleep with our feet towards the fire. 

The stories told upon the evening I have in mv 
mind, had all been about wolves, some o£ which 
rapacious creatures were said to be then in our nei^- 
bourhood. Owins, perhaps, to my imagpnahion havmg 
been excited by these tales, I had a temble ni^^itmare. 
I dreamed that wdhres were pursuinx^ me ; I knew they 
weve gaining on me : I could hear their howls crowing 
more and more distinct. There is a point of agony 
at which all dreams must have an end — I awdce 
with a terrible start, and found mysdf bathed in 
a cold sweat, and a prey to a sense of terror for 
which I could not account. Instead of the cheerful 
blase which I had seen ere I fell asleep, all was 
now cold and dark. The fire had sunk to a heap 
of red embers. I could not distingnish one of wj 
sleeping oompanicms. Good Heavens ! can I be still 
slumbering? There, a^aln, is the long low wailing howl 
which I heard so distmctly in my dream. 

I ait up erect, and list^ What is that sound ? a 
rustling among the brushwood — some of the party 
stizring ? Na All are silent as the grave. I am the 
only one awake in the camp. Once again i Surely I 
am mistaken. I thought the fire was nearer to me, 
just in front; and so it is. What, tiien, can be those 
two glimmering li^ts a few yaids off? Now they 
are moving 1 I awake the nearest sleeper — an 
American named Silas Wood. The man starts to his 
feet, rubs his eyes. * What is it ?' * Look there, Silas.' 
He looks, and as quick as lightning, seizes a burning 
fagot, and hurls it witii all his force and an uneninff 
aim. The gU^Jtming lights dlEoppear'with aiusUe m. 
the brushwood — a warp short bark close at hand, and 
then in a minute or two, the long low wail in the 
distance is heard. 

Silas then stirred and raked the burning embers, 
and throwing on an immense heap of drv brush, in a 
second the &yptian darkness is dispellea by a bright 
flamte which leaps up six feet into the air, and brings 
the sleeping figures and the nearest trees into full relief. 

* Silas, mat does it all mean ? ' I asked. 

' It means, squire,' replied the American, speaking 
with his usual deliberate drawl — * vwlves ! ' 

' Wolves ! ' I re-echoed. * Then these two gleaming 
h'ghts that I took for glowworms, were ' 

*A wolfs eyes, sc^uire; and I ^css his friends 
wam't fur oS, awaitm' kinder anxious to hear tell 
of their scout. Haik! if the darned things ain't a 
groanin' and lamentia' «over their disappintment, as 
sure as my name 's Silas Wood.' 

Once more the l(nig low howl, inexpressibly sad 
and fearful, was heara at a greater distance. Now 
that I knew what it impUed, it made the blood curdle 
in my veins. 

' I shall never forget a wolfs howl,' I exclaimed ; 
' I heard that accursed sound in my dream as plainly 
as I hear it now. But are we not in danger ? and I 
began mechanicaDy to pile up more wood on the 
biasing fire. 



* No fears now, squire^' replied the Yankee oqdUv ; 
* the cowardly critters daran t come anigh a fire like 
that. Besides, I reckon the feller I scared so with 
that 'ere burning chip, has told *em it 's no go by this 
time. They're as cunning as humaaE^ is them 
critten. Ay, be off, and a good riddanoe to ye^ ye 
howling varmints ! ' he added, as the low waU was 
once more heard dying away in tiie distance. 

Notwithstanding the assurance that the wolves 
were retreating, I took great pleasure in seeing the 
fire blazing up brightly, for I knew that in that 
consisted our protec^OD. * I suppose we have had a 
narrow escape-?' I said to my cooqxuiien, who, beeddea 
myself, was the only one a^^e in the camp. 

* I reckon I 've seen a narrower, then,' replied 
he. * Why that 'ere skulkin' scout daran't nave 
^ve warning to the rest of the' pack as long as a 
single red ember remained. The critters is dreedful 
afeared of fire.' 

* Well,' I rejoined, ' I am not at all sony I awoke 
when I did. But as we're the only two awake, sup- 
pose you tell me this narrow escape you allude to— 
that is, if you don't feel sleepy.' 

' Me, s<|uire? I ain't sleepy, not a mossel. I couldn't 
sleep a wmk, if I tried. I feel too kinder happy like 
to have cotched that dmoied aiealdn' scout sich a 
lick ; ' and the Yankee laughed, quite tickled at the 
recollection. ' I guess he had it rifiht sUck atween 
the eyes. I knowed he felt it by the hark he gave. 
Well, squire, it '11 give me considerable sati^Eaction to 
narrate to you my adveofcure with the tamal critters. 
I guess, squire, it be a matter of ten year agone that 
Deacon Nathan had a raisin' away down to Stoc^viUa^ 
in Varmount, where I was rearei' 

'What is a raising?' I asked. 

'Well, I guess it's a buiMin' bee,' rejoined the 
Yankee. 

'And, pray, what is a building bee?' I inquired, 
' for I am as wise as I was before.' 

' You see, squire, when you wants to get anything 
done up rmht away in a hurry all to oncet like^ 
whether it^ flax-beatin', or apple-parin', or com- 
husldn', and the neighbours all round come and help 
work, that 's a bee ; and a buildin' bee, or a raisin', is 
when they want to sottip the frame of a house or a barn.' 

' Oh, that 's a buildii^; bee : now I understand.' 

'Well, I guesB it w&re pretty big bam that 
Deacon Nathan was agoin' to raise, and so we had a 
considerable sight of boys, and a regular spree ; and 
when it came to draw towards night, the deacon he 
says to me : " Silas," says he, "I don't kinder feel 
easy leavin' this here bam unmotectod during the 
dark watches of the night. The heart of man is 
desperately wicked, and. there's some loafers in the 
village, and there's no end to boards and shingles 
lying about ; and so, Silas, what '11 you take to iSx>p 
here aU night?" 

" Deacon," says I, " what Tl you give ?" 

'Well, you see the deacon was everlastin' dose 
where money was concerned; so he puts on a long 
face, and screwed his lips together, and he says very 
slow : " Would a dollar, Sihe, be about " 

" Deacon," says I, " hain't worth my while to stop 
for that; but i you like to make it four, I don% 
mind if I do." 

" Silas Wood," says the deacon, " ain't you unreason- 
able ? How can I rob my family to that extent ? " 

' You see the deacon was a remarkable pious man, 
and whenever he sold the men sperrits, or shoes, or 
flannel, or other notions out of nis store, for about 
three times their vally, and stopped it out of their 
wages, he always talked about his duty to his familv. 
W^ we chafrered and chaffered for a considerable 
spell, and at last we concluded to strike a bargain for 
two dollars and a pint of rum. The boys was a 
pretty well a'mcst cfsared out, when Dave Shunyser 
comes to me and says : " Silas," says he, " be it true 
you 're agoin' to stop here aU night ?" 



32 



CHAMBERS*8 JOURNAL. 



" I reckon I ain't agoin' to do nothin' else," I says. 

" Take a fool's advice," says Dave, ** and do nothin' 
of the sort." 

"What for?" says I. 

" 'Cause," savs he, " there 's several refused ; and the 
deacon knowea you to be a kinder desperate chap, or 
he wouldn't have axed you." 

"Why, nmn alive," says I, "whar's the danger to 
come from ?" 

" Why," says Dave, " ain't you aheerd there 's been 
wolves seen in the neighbourhood? Didn't the 
deacon tell you as how he lost two sheep only the 
night afore last ? You darsn't make a fire, cause of 
the shavings ; and the bam ain't boarded up." 

" Dave," says I, " don't you think to pull the wool 
over my eyes that fashun, and then have it to say 
you circumvented Silas Wood. I reckon I can read 
you as easy as a book. You'd like to am them two 
dollars yourself. Well, now, I'll tell you what I'll 
do with you. Two 's company : if you like to stop with 
me, and help me to drink the deacon's rum, you 're 
welcome ; and I don't care if I share the brass into 
the bargain." 

* Says Dave : " I wouldn't stop a night in this here 
bam as it is, not for a five hundred dollar bilL 
Remember, Silas, I've warned you as a friend;" 
and away he went. 

* Well, squire, I wan't goin' to let Dave scare me, 
'cause I knowed he was sweet on a gal called Kini 
Parkins, that I were keepin' company with, and 
woidd have been considerable rejoiced to have it to 
tell how I had funked ; and as I hadn't heerd tell of 
no wolves in them j)arts, I jest thought he said that 
by way of banter. 

* Well, I made myself comfortable in the bam. It 
was all boarded up on three sides, and partly on the 
fourth ; only there was a gap left for the door, big 
enough to let in a wa^on-load of hay. It wasn't 
cold, oein' a fine night m the Indian simmier. So I 
kept a stroUin' njt and down, takin' a look out now 
and agin, to see if there was anybody lurkiu' about 
with an eye to the boards and the shingles, but there 
wam't a soul stirrin' but myself. Every now and 
agin, I'd mix myself a little grog, till the rum was 
aU gone, and then I began to feel most everlastin' 
sleepy; so I thought I'd jest lie down awhile on a 
big pile of shavings there was in one comer of the 
bam. Well, squire, I dropped oflf, as you may sup- 




huntin' about, jest like a dog, snifiin' here and there, 
till at last he came to the pile of shavings where I was. 
*Well, squire, I can't call to mind how I woke 
exactly, but the fust thing I remember I was sittin' 
right up on the pile of shavings, tryin' to make out 
as well as I could in the dark if there was anything 
in the bam or not It was about a minute before 1 
could see clearly ; but at last I heard a slight rustle, 
and thought I saw somethin' move. Thinks I, that's 
Dave Shunyser, or some of the boys, come back to 
frighten me. They shan't have it to crow over me. 
So I sings out : " Is that you, Dave ?" There was no 
answer, but I heard a rustlin' and a patter jest like 
a dog's paws, and I could ,8ee the critter, whatever 
it was, crawlin' towards the gap in the boards. Then 
it stopped, and kinder turned its head, and I cotched 
sight of two twinklin' lights, and, thinks I, it's a stray 
dog ; when the critter give a spring out of the bam, 
and sot up a howl. Squire, I shouldn't have ben 
scared with one wolf, &«/ that howl was answered from 
the xooodsy maybe a quarter of a mile off, b}/ another, 
which I knowea could only have come from a padc of 
not less than fifty hungry devils. Well, squire, I was 
awfid scared, and that 's a fact ; but I guess if I 'd 
a lost my presence of mind, it would ha* been all 
up with me in about five minutes. I knowed I 
hadn't a moment to lose, 'cause I heerd the howl 



comin' nearer and nearer ; and the yelp yelp of the 
sentinel-wolf outside calling them to their prey ! My 
first idea was to set fire to the shavings. I out witn 
my flint and steel ; but the spunk wouldn't light, and 
not one of the shavings would cotch. The howla 
kept comin' nigher and nigher. Then I begui to 
think I was gone. Th^re was an axe in the bam, 
but what could I do agin fifty wolves ? and in the 
dark, where they couldn't see my eyes to daunt them. 

* I clenched it, however, and aetermined to sell my 
life dearly, when all to oncet, jest when I'd given up 
all hope, I feel something touch agin my head — it 
was a rope as had ben made fast to one of the 
rafters. I guess, squire, if that 'ere rope had ben a 
foot shorter, I 'd not a ben here now tellm' this story ! 
The way I went up that rope, hand over hand, was a 
caution. And I 'd barely swung -myself on to the 
rafter, and begun lashin' myself to the beam with 
the rope, when — squire, it makes my blood run cold 
only to tell of it — the bam was alive with wolves, 
yelpin', leapin', and fallin' over each other. I could 
hear them roufcin' among the shavings; and in a 
minute they had all spread over the bam-fioor. Then 
they began to nuzzle in the earth and scratch up the 
mould with their paws. 

* At last one of em scented me, and told the others 
with a yelp. Then of all the yells I over heard ! 
— squire, I most swooned away ; and if I hadn't 
lashed myself to the rafter, I 'd ha' fell right down 
among 'em. Oh, such a yell I never heerd afore, and 
hope 1 'U never hear agin ! Though I knowed they 
couldn't get at me, it was dreedful to be there alone 
in the dead of the night, with a pack of hungry 
wolves lickin' their slaverin' jaws, and thirstin' for 
my blood. They ran round and roimd the bam, and 
leaped on to each other's backs, and sprang in to the air ; 
but it was no use ; and at last I began to get kinder 
easy, and I looked down on the nowlin' varmints, 
and bantered them. Squire, you 'd ha' thought they 
understood a feller. Every time I hoUered and shook 
my fist at them, they yell^ aud jumped, louder than 
ever. For all this, I wam't sorry wnen it begun to 
grow a little lighter ; and about an hoiur before dawn 
they begin to see it was no use ; so they give me one 
long, loud farewell howl afore they went. But, squire, 
the most cur'ous part of tlie story has got to come. 
Some time afore they went, it had grow^ so light, I 
could see 'em quite plain ; and an ugly set of deinls 
they was, and no mistake. Well, I noticed one wolf 
separate himself from the pack, and trying to slink 
away. He had his tail at ween his legs, lest like a 
dog when he's beaten, and had a cowed look, as if 
he were ashamed and afeared like. All at oncet, he 
made a spring out of the bam, but the rest of the 
pack was after him like light nin'. 

* Squire,' concluded the Yankee, laying his hand 
impressively on my sleeve, *you may b^eve it or 
not, jest as you please ; but beyond some hide and 
bones, they didn't leave a piece of that 'ere wolf as 
big as my hand. He was the scout as give the signal 
to the others, and they devoured him out of himger 
and revenge, 'cause they couldn't get me ! ' 



INSCRIPTION FOR A SPRING. 

Whoe'er thou art that stay'st to quaff 

The streams that here from caverns dim 
Arise to fill thy cup, and laugh 

In sparkling l>eads about the brim, 
In all thy thoughts and wordn as pure 

As these sweet waters marnt thou be. 
To all thy friends as firm and sure, 

As prompt in all thy charity. 



G. 



Printed and Published by W. k R. Chambers, 47 Pater- 
noster Row, London, and 339 High Street, Edinburgh. 
Also sold by William Robertson, 23 Upper Sackville 
Street, Dublin, and all Booksellers. 



Scitntt anb ^rts. 



CONDUCTED BT WILLIAM AND ROBERT CHAMBERS. 



No. 368. 



SATURDAY, JANUARY 19, 1861. 



Price l^^d. 



BROKEN ON THE WHEEL. 

The grim old wheel of torture nms no longer ; that 
ill-omened engine is out of gear now and for ever ; 
and the crowding spectators gaze no more with pitiless, 
curious eyes, as the huge wheel turns, and the iron 
crow-bars rise and fall, smashing bone and flesh, and 
muscle and sinew, and aU of humanity that cruelty 
had power oyer, into a mass of crimson pulp. Heaven 
be praised, that gory blot is wiped away from the 
codes of civilised Etirope, for good and all ! Even the 
crowned tormentor who last wore the sullied diadem 
of Naples, seems to have left the wheel out of his 
frightful list of secret barbarities. In Britain, the 
roue, that ugly invention of the middle ages, so fertile 
in new punishments, never seems to have disgraced 
the soil ; but there are old folks still amongst us who 
were living when the hideous instrument was last 
used in Paris, and who were verging on middle age 
before Germany gave up the grisly plaything. Once, 
it was a panacea for the cure of aU audacious crime. 
Murder, sacrilege, highway robbety, espial of state 
secrets, the theft of a few pennyworths of the property 
of mother-church — these, and many another o£fence, 
black, or white, or party-coloured, according to the 
mood of the judges, brought the wheel into action. 
It did not alwa3rs spare men of high birth, allied to 
sovereign families, as witness the Coimt de Horn. 
Wisdom and talent, and great services could not 
avert it, as in the case of Perez, prime-minister of 
Spain. It was not prone to spare youth, or innocence, 
or untaught ignorance that was below the instinct 
brutes possea& And it was a joyous holiday for the 
demoralised people, when Monsieur of Paris, or Mon- 
fiieur of Ratiabon, or Monsieur of Cologne or Madrid, 
had arranged the scaffold of dull red planks, and 
bound the victim, neck and heels, to the fell engine, 
and stood by in his scarlet cap ^nd serge dress, crow- 
bar in hand, and his muscular arms bared, ready to 
strike the first crushing stroke, as the heavy wheel 
ran round. 

All that is over now. Crime is lessened; the 
ghastly scarecrows, the dreadful sights of suffering, 
by which our ancestors tried to tame the stubborn 
nature of mankind, are given up as worse than 
useless ; and Society is none the less secure because 
the hearts of judge and jailer, and honest folks, 
and offenders, too, maybe, are softer than they were 
in the dark days that are gone. Why, then, have 
I resuscitated that dead and buried Palladium of 
ante-revolutionary Europe ? Why dragged that ugly 
phantom out of the darkness of oblivion? It is 
because certain potentates, whose dominions lie in 
the £air and frequented Bhineland, adhere to ancient 



practice, and have revived the old institution, the 
old wheel, in a new form, and one more adapted to 
the refined age we live in. It is true tht^ the 
multitudes who gather to witness the executions are 
not brutalised or shocked by horrid sx)ectacles, by 
fearful sights and lacerations, by groans and dying 
agonies. No; the tyrants are wiser; their hecatombs 
of captives are crowned with flowers, seated at gay 
banquets, and immolated to soft music. 

The victims, too, are not the grossly ignorant, the 
starving, the wretch nursed in vicious ways, and who 
never learned to look on Law except as a scourge pre- 
pared for him, and a trap to catch him; they are self- 
sentenced, self-selected ; they come smiling to where 
Juggernaut sits leering in his flower-adorned car, and 
throw themselves imder the gigantic gUt wheels, from 
which all previous stains have been carefully removed 
by the officiating Brahmins. Cranch ! go their silly 
bones, and the car rolls on, and the priests whisk 
away the betraying spots ^Hth their cambric 
kerchiefs, and apply a layer of fresh gold-leaf, and 
Juggernaut still leers with the old wooden smile, and 
see! how the victims troop merrily to the sacrifice. 
These Rhineland princes that I speak of, these 
revivers of the wheel in a new and improved form, 
warranted to break hearts, bruise spirits, and utterly 
destroy prospects, character, and fair fame, without 
damage to externals or violation of the proprieties of 
life, are just as cruel as their predecessors the French 
provincial parliaments, the judges of Pans, Hamburg, 
Geneva, the grafs and bishops of Westphalia. Nay, 
they are more cruel, for what the old society of 
Europe inflicted out of rank cowardice, out of bull- 
headed blundering, out of that want of sympathy 
that makes children torture an insect or maltreat an 
animal, these modem rulers perpetrate for profit's 
sake. It is all done for so much per cent. — a very 
handsome percentage, I grant ! One of these poten- 
tates is called Prince Benazet, and he reigns over the 
beautiful vale of Baden-Baden; another, still more 
renowned, is Prince Blanc, Lord of Homburg on the 
Mounts, and to ftit wheel resort more culprits than 
to any other. There are minor wheels at Ems, at 
Kissingen, at Wiesbaden, at Spa, and elsewhere. At 
Aix-les-Bains in Savoy, at Aix-la-Chapelle in Prussia, 
at Lucca, and at Paris, similar princes, now dethroned, 
held a lucrative, if ignoble sway. Lastly, the pettiest 
of all petty sovereigns, he of Monaco, has consented 
to share the rocky garden he caUs his dominions, 
down by the violet Mediterranean, with a princeling 
of the same description. But the genuine successors 
of the old robbers of the Rhine are their Highnesses 
Benazet and Blanc, knights of the Order of the 
Fleece, and commanders of the fraternity of Mammon. 



u 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



These magnates, ruthless rulers both, and equally 
renowned for breaking men, body and soul, ^n their 
wheels of torture, are yet rivals of each other. If 
one of them accomplices some ghastly execution, 
the other will strive to ecliiwc it. These two run a 
race of mischief over a course paved with gold and 
strewed with the bones of victims. 

Prince Benazet has the fairest domains ; his sceptre 
extends over the sweetest valley that Rhineland 
boasts, for Baden is ihe Paradise of Germany, and 
the capital of this modem despot is pitched in the 
midst of an amphitheatre of encircling hills, clothed 
from base to simmut with rustling oaks, black pines, 
ereen birches, and great ehns and sycamores, whose 
boughs murmur afar off in simmier with a pleasant 
rippling sound, as of running water. Heavy and rich 
woodlands lie below, almost cumbering the vale with 
the teeming abundance of gnarled stems and massive 
foliage ; the stream that wanders past, tinkling over 
the pebbly bed, is spanned by pretty bridges, urged 
over pret^ cascades, trained to wander through still 
prettier gardens, treasured up and made the most 
of, for purposes of pure ornament. No sordid useful- 
ness, no politico-economic drudgery, is demanded of 
that stream that flows from Lichtenthal to Baden and 
the Oos. The gentle slave has no mills to turn, no 
toil to undertake, and needs but to serpentine grace- 
fully among deep woods, and blooming flowers, and 
white paths made for the tread of laughing children 
and fair women, and to bear milk-white swans upon 
its limpid surface. It is a show-stream. The forest 
is a show-forest. The mountains, even, have been 
pressed into service, and are show-mountains. There 
IS something theatrical in their sharp volcanic cones, 
and bold peaks, and exuberantly timbered sides. 
Then see ! how tastefully the hill-tops are crowned, 
here by a temple of ApoUo, there by a gray Gothic 
SchlosSf an old, old wreck of the feudal times, when 
castles were, and clubs were not The emerald 
meadows, so bestarred with the silver and gold of 
daisies and butter-cups, are show-meadows — ^^the 
browsing kine are the handsomest of their sort; 
the rustic villages have quite a stage- effect in their 
wondrous trimness of porch, and gable, and garden ; 
their matrons and white-bearded patriarchs seem 
furnished from the property-room; tneir maidens to 
be stage RoMires in impossible bodices and tight 
shoes; and their pet goats to be the highly trained 
pupils of some Howes and Gushing. The same 
remark applies to the roads and paths laid out 
through the umbrageous forests, shaded from the sun 
by the interlacing boughs. They are too smooth, and 
broad, and white, too carefully shaded and screened, 
for common use ; every pebble seems selected, the sand 
smooth enough for the feet of Amphitrite, the trees 
thinned away judiciously at intervals to give a frame- 
work to some point of view; here a Swiss cottage, 
there a rural shrine of the Madonna, before which, 
when the Angelus or Vesper sounds, peasants clad 
in operatic attire kneel and pray, with bowed heads 
and shaded eyes. The little town itself might almost 
be the product of a stage-carpenter's industry, with 
its pavilions, more or less sumptuous, where strangers 
are lodged; its gay booths, rather stalls than shops, 
elitterin^ with trmkets, gaudy wares, and general 
finery; its fountains and groves; its gardens and 
tinselly palaces, where the marble and stone look 
like cunning imitations in paint and canvas; nay, 
the hoary C{»tle on the hill tnat rises above the roofs, 
looks beautifully unreal — a clever exemplification of 
Mr Brush's talent for scene-painting. 

But this toy-town is filled, for some three months 
of summer, with real Ixmd-Jide men and women from 
the great flesh-and-blood world, the working, full- 
sized, downright world, that hes beyond the fairy 
realms of this Prince Benazet, where everjrthing 
leems to be for ornament, and industry has no place. 



And here we are at Benazet's palace — a long low 
building, of little architectural beauty, and we feel a 
little disappointed at first. Benazet has not shewn as 
much gorgeous taste in his dwelling as some of his 
brother-prmcelings. Blanc, who rmes at Hombui^ 
on the Mounts, has built him a palatial residence, 
splendid to look upon, quite a Golden House of Nero 
in its way ; and has forced the rugged hill it stands 
on to bloom into acres upon acres of parterre, and 
terraced shrubbery, and velvet lawn. The potentate 
who governs Wi^baden, turn and turn about with 
His Transparency of Nassau, has a sumptuous abode 
also, with gardens worthy a king's dwelling-placei 
and a pretty lake which stretches past the palace, 
with its snowy swans, and fat golden carp, ever on 
the watch for eleemosynary biscuit, and colonnades 
beneath whose majestic shadow the jewellers and 
dealers in gimcracks exhibit their temptations, and 
wonderful beds of many-coloured flowers, from, amid 
which, out of masses of blossoms, and green moss, and 
rock- work, and marble statuary, spout fantastic foun- 
tains, that fling their liberal spray over moss and 
marble, and shine like liquid rainbows in the wester- 
ing sun. Yet Prince Benazet of Baden has a pretty 
puace too, and fair gardens, and the forest sets off 
the one and the other by the dark green of its massy 
framework. Then, too, what chagrining avenues of 
perfumed lime-trees stretch in front of the prince^ 
residence ; and under these trees saunter, or lounge, or 
stand, great crowds of the gayest, and the richest, and 
the idlest, and most noble, as well as of the worst, and 
wickedest, most desperate and ;ieedy, of the dwellexB 
in European cities. There they are, peer and prince, 
and adventurer, and high-bom dame, and actriess of 
the Variit^Sf and warrior, and chevalier cTindustrie, all 
gathered by the same mighty magnet, all candidates 
n)r a place at the Baden torture-wheeL A superb 
band is playing the sweetest music of Italy with all 
the correctness of taste and tune that Germany can 
boast. No niggard is Benazet to his motley guests. 
He culls talent far and near, he spares no cost to 
make up his admirable orchestra, and his victims are 
at anyrate soothed by the mc^t dulcet strains of 
Mendelssohn and Rossini. One day, the Austrian 
military band from the fort of Rastadt supplies the 
Uberal modicum of harmony; the next, the ears of 
the company are tickled by the musicians of tbs 
Guards from Oarlsruhe ; and then comes the turn ol 
the prince's own band, veterans of the orchestra 
combined with panting, wild-eyed, long-haired young 
enthusiasts, who blow their very hearts and socus 
through the resounding brass. Certainly, if Benazet, 
like the giant Blunderbore, grinds tne bones of 
Englishmen, and others, to make his bread, his bone- 
miU grinds to very soft, sweet, spirit-stirring music ! 
We may cast a lingerixig glance, if we {dease, at the 
broad promenade, dazzling white, and heavily shaded 
by the linden, where the gallant company sweep up 
and down, displaying their bravery, like a peacock 
its plumaged train. There is much there worthy 
of note, certainly ; for are not the lions of Psans 
there, with lackered boots and cambric shirts, and 
a general gloss and sparkle about them that makes 
the despair of Young Germany yonder, with his 
yellow beard, and flowing locks, and dreamy blue 
eyes, and absurdly puckered coat ? And are not the 
lionnea of Paris tnere as well — those astonishing 
ladies who can smoke cigars, ride or drive hi^- 
mettled horses, talk slang, and write novels too, as 
well as any given Frenchman ; and yet who are able 
to dress with a richness of good taste, innate in them, 
which rivals the Russian archduchess 3ronder, and 
puts all those New York belles to their mettle? 
There arc, too, not a few high-born English, calm and 
disdainful of the foreigner, as usual ; and nobles from 
Spain and Vienna, who in their hearts consider the 
above-mentioned English as mushrooms, and the 
French as insolent upstarts, and the Russians as 



r 



CHAMBBRS'S JOURXAL. 



35 



wMhtd TMrtara, and the Yaakeet as pecrax rouges, and 
no rank or oonditiom as gennine exo^ their own. 

Let xm enter the pauice. From ifea oool marbled 
hall, we can enter many apartments. Here is the 
little ballroom, called the Ballroom of Flowers, from 
its brightly painted roof; here the grand ballroom, 
looking shadowy and vast in the dim hght, now the 
shatters are closed. Here is the reMaurant, inferior 
to that which Prince Blanc provides at Homboi^, but 
not despicable. In this room, as you see, at £df-a- 
dozen wlee, are chess-playeis bnsy with their ivorv 
warriora. lliey are always to be fomid in sncn 
palaces ; theirs is a cheap diversion, but it engrosses 
their thopghts imtil they forget where they are play- 
ing. It is cnrions to see them, absorbed, thon^tfnl, 
over their combinations and mimic warfare, uncon- 
scions of the real huily-barly, the real battle-royal, in 
the gamblinfi-rooms so near them. Prince Benasset 
encoaraces them — ^theae harmless chess-pla^rers, these 
philoso^ers who ponder, like Archimedes, m the roar 
of sack and sieee. He gives them tables, ivory-men, 
wax-lights. They act as an involuntary advertise- 
ment, and inspire a sort of confidence. True, they 
bring no grist to the mill, but there is a respectabilily 
in their very calmness. 

Now we approach the Chamber of Horrors — not 
waxen, Baker-Street horrors — ^but flesh-and-blood 
horrors ; now we go where real hearts throb, genuine 
nerves quiver, bosoms ossify, honour turns to shame, 
and hope to deqMdr — ^the torture-chamber. Do you 
hear no groans ? no sounds of wailing and pain ? Ah ! , 
that is because fashion forbids complaint. The 
sufferers wince inwardty, but are cool and smiling as 
Tndians at the stake. We enter. A fine room — large, 
lofty, decorated, full of well-dressed folks. That is 
the dread instrument there, in the middle, affixed to 
the long table covered with green doth. There is the 
wheel of torture, spinning, almost noiseless, on its 
delicate pivot, omshing its prey daintily. We push 
on till we get a place among the bystanders who 
surround the dread mstrument, and behold the execu- 
tioners and the culprits, seated in double row. 

In another room, Pimce Benazet is wrindiug the 
heart-drops of another set of captives, by a difrcrent 
punishment, called rouge et notr, artfully inflicted by 
pieces ol painted pasteboard. But this is a graver 
g^uno, slow, deocHXKiB, and without the excitingvariety 
of the roulette wheel we have come to see. behold ! 
the green board is parcelled out into nimibered 
squares, and has compartments decorated with a 
lozenge of black, and a lozenge of red, and others 
inscrioed with j^t letters, *odd' and 'even,' *high' 
and * low,' and so on. In the middle is the wheel, of 
polished rose-wood, with its eight-and-thirty numbered 
niches, black or red, and the gallery where the ivory 
baU runs round, while the wheel spins below, till at 
last, snap! down goes the ball, and settles in a niche, 
and decides the question of gain or loss for that turn. 
Then the executionerB, culed politely Croupiers, 
■tretdi out their adroit wooden rakes, claw up the 
baak^ winnings, toes over, piece by piece, the coin 
due to those who have been successful ; and with a 
daxterouB hand the operator sets the ball flying one 
way, the wheel twirling the other, and the game goes 
on. There is little speech. The executioners, always, 
dingy dttk-horowed men, in black, like ravens, sitting 
two and two on either side the wheel, with gold, silver, 
notes, and rakes, in a heap before them, have a for- 
mnla that they croak out in their monotonous voices : 
'Faitea votre jeu, Messieurs!' The ball twirls, the 
wheel wgasmn Gold, and silver, and notes are sown all 
over the board by the ea^er hands of those who hope 
for a j^recious harvest. The bsdl totters in its gallery. 
* Nothing more I ' cries the croupier, breathless. Down 
comes 'Se bidL 'Red wins, colour loees, even, and 
hig^ 90,' croaks the bird of ill omen. Claw, claw go 
the xttksa, tweenng up all lost stakes. Pat, pat goes 
the moaey tossed to the winnen. 



Then on goes the game, like the scythe of Time 
itself. There are players of all degrees — men of hi^ 
rank, branded rogues, mercfaaiits and bankers whose 
very word is worth much gold ; knaves who, if th^ 
lose the coup, must rob or starve ; virtuous British 
matrons; titled dames from Paris, St Petersburg, 
Madrid; actreeses, whose salaries had need to be 
handsome, considering the costliness of their lace and 
jewels ; gallant soldiers, whose breasts are galaxies of 
decoration, and sham ditto still more gorgeous ; self- 
dubbed counts, mock marchionesses, reu and ficti- 
tious nobihty, wealth, beauty, virtue, aU equal for 
the moment There are plenty of stalwart young 
Britons, with the neatest hair and whiskers, the best 
fitting garments, and the most t^f^yW-ng watch-chains 
of any there. Clean of person and Imen, honest of 
mien, manly of make, they are quite refreshing oases 
in the midst of yonder mob of greasy Poles, dusk 
Spaniards, and flashily attired Jews, who arc dbowing 
them. 

At the end of the table sits a jovial portly gentle- 
man, with a flowing auburn beard and a konine 
face, who plays high, and whom the croupiers treat 
with marked respect— His Royal Highness the Prince 
of Ischia, a Neapolitan Bourbon. His Royal Highness 
is as well known as most scions of kingly houses, and 
has been out at elbows these many years. London, 
Paris, and the gambling-houses of each especially, 
know him well. He lives on such part of ms 
confiscated patrimony as his royal brother allows 
him (or did allow him) when in good-humour; he 
spends half his time and most of his coin at such 
palaces as Benazet's; he lives royally, and is sold 
up about twice a year; and I dare wager there is 
a bailiff or two among the liveried vcUetcaUe, who 
will wait on His Royal Highness at dinner this day. 
Yet he is popular, and none the less because he 
incurred disgrace at home for marrying an English 
lady — ^Miss Hecuba Brown — the Princess of Ischia, 
for whom His Royal Highness went to the trouble of 
compiling and publishing a family-tree, tracing the 
Browns m)m Leo the Isaurian, Julian the Apostate, 
Charles the Fat of France, and other dignitaries. 
Next to the prince are an old Englishwoman and her 
young daughter, just eighteen. The mother is a 
character ; she has a passion for play, and a small 
income ; throughout the season, you see her, in the 
same chair, for ten hours a day, I believe, her patient 
offspring beside her, playing with siujgle florins, value 
two shBlings. She plays a peculiar game. Her 
raptures are purchased cheaply. Prudent and slow, 
she is too tough a customer for the dread wheel. She 
loses a little on Monday, wins a Httle on Tuesday. I 
have heard her say, that at the end of the season she 
is but a pound or two the richer or poorer. So she 
goes through the mill, and comes out whole, and the 
wonder is where her pleasure resides ; but she is lame 
and corpulent, and likes play better than books. As 
for the daughter, she merite pity, as she site idle, with 
a blank, pale, stupid face, waiting tiU her mother has 
finished. Next to this pair sit three men of the true 
gambling type, Greeks, Russians, Spaniards, it matters 
not whidL Each has his card and pin, to note the 
runs of luck ; each has his heaps of gold, his piles of 
silver, his book of bank-paper, and his infallible 
system of winning. These systems are called, techni- 
oally. Martingales. They are based on calculations, 
sometimes very simple, sometimes awfully abetrose. 
Every true gambler makes his own, but uiey are to 
be bought, ready printed, at the libraries. They all 
end in ruin and beggary — mathematics and practice 
unite to prove that — ^but it is amazing witn what 
faith each player hugs hie martingale to his heart, and 
witlf what scorn he sneers at the dupes around, who 
fancy they, too, have the grand secret— they, the 
idiots ! Ihese martingales lutve one eopomon feature 
—doubling when you £se, and then again, and so on. 

It is in this way that Princes Benazet and Blano 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



suck the marrow o£ their victiins. They chuckle 
over those [lUny apells to bind Fortune. It ia out of 
znartiiigiiieK, iufaJliliTe m&rtiD^alefl, that the ahare- 
holders o£ the bank draw their 400 per cent. I once 
saw ■ young Cantab lose L,200 in Hve minutes by 
doubling. ID the vain hope <>F getting back a, lost five- 
franc jiiece. The lowea begin U> grow like the nails ta 
the horse's shoes, in the Eastern tale ; and the wheel 
makes from 90 t« 120 turns per hour, cruahiag, 
grinding body nnd bones. I remember well, at 
Spa, a French prefect came to try his might agunst 
the wheel. He brought a confederate, ^so a well- 
stocked purse and a system. He won, day after day ; 
he broke the banlc, as the phrase goes, more than 
once. His luck seemed wondrous, or hia Bystem 
sound, for thousands after thousands of golden coini 
flocked into his pockets. I asked the prince wht 
presided over the torture at Spa, whether he felt fear- 
ful of ultimate defeat. The old white- whiskered rogue 
smiled like an ogre. ' It will all come back.' he said. 
So it did, with interest. ThoPactoluBebbedBufast.tbnt 
the prefect hod to sell carriage and horses to pay hU 
inn bill, and sneaked back to his prefectOTc, a ^om 
sheep that came to fleece. So it is with almost all men. 
Of courae, a few win. not decoys, but real punters. 
Prince Napoleon, for inatauca, Mr Baring at Paris, Ijord 
Hertford, rich men, always, who can outbid the bank. 
The strangest thing la, thnt when a croupier has save ' 
a little money, he often gets a holiday, goes off 1 
another play-table, and loses every sixpence : and yi 
if any men should know the worst of play, it must 1 
these, the eiecutionera, who ply the greedy rake all 
day. See, while we talked, three infallibfe syi 
have broken down, three bubbles have burst Those 
smooth-looking, bard-eyed men, have hardly a eoii 
left. They vacate their chsiis ; others eagerly taki 
them. Yet yon hear no croans, no gnashing of teeth ; 
you see no glaring eyeballs, none of the signs of 
despair novelists love to tlescnbe, are here in the Hall 
of Itoin. If a beggared gambler were to lament, 
and curse, and stamp, as they du in three-volume 
romances, those numerous footmen in blue and c 
■on would hustle him oat in a moment. Fair and 
smootlily, is the rule. I recollect when a man shot 
himself at Wieabadcn, so cloae to the table that his 
blood and brains were apattered over board, and 

Etnyers, and over the scuursed gold that had lured 
ini. Ahl how quickly was the bleeding witness 
huddled away, the dark pool of gore wiped from the 
floor, the clujn pushed back, the play resumed I 
' Faites votre jeu, Measieura I' croaked tile croupier, 
ero the body was well across the threshold. I could 
tell many a tale of those who have laid down life 
where they had lost means, and fame, and honour. 
But there is a grim sameneas in the incidents. They 
shock few, except the English. The French can jest 
on them. One tale is worth a record. A Paris 
banker had sent bis only son on n tour ; the young 
man loat nil he had at Bailen, and waa in debt besides. 
The prodieial wrote a full confession, promised to be 
steady in future, asked for meana to leave the place. 
The father, merely to frighten him, sent a harsh 
refusal, writing by the same post ia a Baden hanker 
to pav hia son's debts, supply him with funds, and 
send bim on to Paris. But when the correspondent 
called at the hotel, it was joat sixty minutes too late : 
the poor foolish bd had cut his throat on hotu- s^. 
Let the wheel spin '. The music is giving an expiring 
flourish, and the promenadcrs aro gomg home t^ 
dinner. At night, there -mil be a grand ball. The 
great saloons blaze with light, tiie waxed floor, 
slijipery aa glass, tempts the dancers ; and jewela ond 
lacea, and silks, feathers, gay dresses, no lock of 
beauty, and rank, and wit, and mirth, and music, are 
there. There, too, are the white-coated Austrions 
from Rastadt, the best of waltzera, scanning the foir- 
liaired daughters of Albion, oa they select partners for 
tile dance just beginning. It is the high noon of 



play, too, and people of all degrees, 
creeds, ore gathered round the wheel, and round the 
rouge-et-noir table& Floods of wealth run here uul 
there, but the tide sets steadily for the coffers Ot the 
bank. The bank's victories are many. Yonder yooog 
Guardsman has lost a thousand Napoleons. Oooat 
Seckendorf twice as many, Airs Higgs of " ' 
buiy has been mulcted of 8s. 4d. in English ci 
and the last-named player seems to fe^ her li 
most bitterly. But why chronicle all the miahaps of 
yonder gay crowd, of fashion and psuudo-faahion, 
folly and craft combined ^ The scene looks 
enough, in the heyday of the season, -with i 
enjoymenta, new pleaaurea, revels for evety day. 
But think it over in the late autumn, when tit 
crowd has flitted away, and the trees are bare, and 
the flowers withered, and the palace silent and dad; 
and the cold wind drives along the dead brawa 
leaves, blighted like the hopes that were bndun OD 
Prince Benazet's tortore-wheeL 



AN ARCTIC WINTER TWO HUNDEED 
YEAliS AGO. 



One of the must marvellous of all chapters in tbg 
history of maritime discovery, is that search for tbs 
NortU-west Passage which lias been underbikai bj 
numbers of intrepid navigators, generatioa after 
generation, from the reign of Elisabeth to that of 
Victoria. We have a number of quaint narratives 
of early arctic voyages, but the most remarkahle, 
spirited, and generally intereatiDg, is the one which 
mbutely yet graphically describes the daring roy^e 
performed in a little vessel of seventy tons, hj 
Ca)itain Thomas James, in the years 1631, 163S. 
It ia line reading o' winter oighto, when the nor1& 
wind howls, and the deep sea roars, and the chimney 
rooks and rumbles ; when tho Rre sparkles bti^t, 
and the kettJe hisses cheerily on the bob^ aad Oa 
cat purs dreamily by the fresh-swept hearth I One's 
own sense of security and comfort then gives a apecUt 
zest, perhaps, to tho curious and es:citing details d 
the dangers and suficriags of othels. 

' The Worshipful Company of Merchant Adven- 
turers of tho City of Bristol ' being desirous of solving 
the problem of a uorth-weat passage into the South 
Sea, especially because they understood that Charlea L 
had ' an earnest deeire to be certiHed whether there 
were any passage or not,' undertook the expeditioD 
in question. They 'did fit and set forth a choice, 
well- conditioned, strong ship, called the Henrietta 
liana, of the burden of seveuty tons, victualled for 
eighteen months,' and Captain Thomas James was 
appointed commander. The choice both of ship aad 
capt^ proved a good one, so far as the prodigious 
strength of the former, and the maiitiine skill, per- 
severance, and undaunted courage and endurance of 
the latter were eooeemed. We incidentally learn 
that Captain Jamea had previously been in the arctic 
regions, and, as we shall find at the conclusion of hia 
narrative, his heart was thoroughly in tho euterjsise, 
'~i aid in the auccesa of which he brought practical 
[perience and all the knowledge of tiie localitia 
which he had gathered by painstaking research for 
years. We shall not offer any opinion concerning fail 
judgment in prosecuting the search in tho direction 
did, aa hia own narrative amply shews that he wu 
lorly wrong ; but we must bear in mind how compa- 
jvely limited aud imperfect geographical knowled^ 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



37 



was in his time, and that only actual experience 
could set him right. In other respects — that is, as 
regards indomitable pluck and patient endurance — he 
has never been excelled by any succeeding explorer; 
and when we reflect how inadequately — according to 
our modem notion»-he was supplied with the means 
of wintering, and how he ana his handful of men 
returned home in their battered bark, we rise from a 
perusal of his Toyaee with profound respect and 

There are some shrewd remarks in the old mariner's 
introductory passages. He says he was always of 
opinion — and the experience of our own times proves 
he was right — ^that the voyage he proposed could be 
best effectied by a single ship, and that of small size. 
He resolved to take only twenty-two hands, all told 
— ^nineteen being 'choice able men, two younkers,' 
and himsell ae would not have any married men. 
Another fact bears witness to his judgment. * I was,' 
he observes, ' sought to by divers that had formerly 
been in places ot the chiefest conmiands in this 
action [that is, in arctic explorations], and others 
also that had used the northern icy seas ; but I utterly 
refused them all, and would by no means have any 
with me that had been in the uke voyage or adven- 
tures ' — his object, doubtless, being to avoid the evils 
of a divided command or authority on board. 

On the 2d of May 1631, Capt^ James embarked, 
accompanied by the * merchants adventurers,' who 
had fitted out the ship, and by the Rev. Mr Palmer, 
who preached an appropriate sermon to the crew. 
These visitors having taken their leave, the vessel 
sailed next day on her lone and daring voyage, and 
on the 4th of June made we coast of Greenland, in 
very thick foul weather. By the IQth, they were 
abreast of Gape Desolation, ana the compass had then 
16 degrees of westerly variation. The ice was as high 
as the maintopmast-head, and * the weather was for 
the most part a stinking fog, and the sea very black.' 
A week subsequently, ike K>g was ' of such a piercing 
nature, that it spoiled all our compasses, and made 
them so heavy that they would not traverse.' They 
drifted and struggled luong for some time, and were 
nearly driven ashore more than once, and it ' snowed 
hard all day and nieht, and blew a storm at west, 
which drove in all uie ice out of the sea upon us.' 
On the 21st, great floes of ice forced the vessel on a 
rock, and notwithstanding the utmost efibrts of the 
crew, she heeled over tiU they could not stand on 
deck, so ' we all went to prayers upon a piece of ice, 
beseeching God to be merciful unto us.' Every 
instant they expected she would capsize, but the 
water unexpectedly flowed, and she righted, ' where- 
upon we all on our knees praised God for his mercy.' 
Kb sooner was one danger overcome than another 
presented itself in the shape of accumulated masses 
of ice, through which they broke their way by the 
22d. * This oay,' says the gallant and pious narrator, 

* I went ashore, and set up a great beacon with stones 
upon the highest part of the island, and putting a 
cross upon it, named it the Harbour of God's Provi- 
dence.' The next day he found where the * savages,' 
as he caUs the Esquimaux, had encamped, who 
had 'made hearths, and left some firebrands about 
them, with some heads and bones of foxes, and some 
whale-bones.* From this time to 29th July, they 
experienced much the same fortune, battling almost 
daily with the ice, and already perceiving that it 
would not be possible to prosecute their mtended 
discovery that year. As early as 6th July they were 

* put on half allowance of bread on flesh-days. The 
latter part of the month, the fog was again so thick 
that they could not sec a pistol-shot ahead. On the 
29th they were once more so imbedded in packs of 
ice, that although it blew a veiy hard gale, the vessel 
moved * no more than if she had been m a dry dock.' 
The ice was all flat, and Captaui James said he 
measured some pieces 1000 paces across. The entry 



in the worthy captain's journal that day is naive and 
significant. ' This was the first day our men began 
to murmur, thinking it impossible to get either for- 
wards or backwards. I comforted and encouraged 
them the best I could ; and to put away these cogita- 
tions, we drank a health to his majesty on the ice, 
not one man in the ship, and she still under all sails. 
I must ingenuously confess that their murmuring 
was not without cause. And doubting that we should 
be frozen up in the sea, I ordered fire to be made but 
once a day, the better to prolong our fuel whatsoever 
should happen.' The foggy weather lasted till the 
11th of August,* when they saw open water to the 
north-west. 

On the 12th, they were in latitude 58'' 46', and the 
next day, they struck on some rocks, a fresh gale 
blowing ; but some heavy seas fairly lifted the vessel 
over; and although she had thrice struck very heavily, 
she made no water. Thereupon they anchored, ami 
sent out their boat to reconnoitre, and find a better 
anchorage among the rocks and beaches. Sailing 
onward, or, in modem seamen's parlance, 'feeling 
their way,' on the 20th they saw a very low flat lan<C 
which the captain named The New Principality of 
South Wales, ' and,' says he, ' drank a healtn in the 
best liquor we had to Prince Charles, whom God 
preserve.* In the evening, they anchored in a short 
chopping sea, which caused the ship to labour exceed- 
ingly, so that at times her forecastle was buried. The 
first real calamity of the voyage now occurred, which 
the captain thus graphically relates : 

' At nine at nignt, it was very dark, and blew hard. 
We perceived by the lead that the ship did drive, 
wherefore bringing the cable to capstan to heave in 
our cable — for we thought we had lost our anchor — 
the anchor hitched again, and upon the chopping of 
the sea, threw the men &om the capstan. A small 
rope in the dark had gotten foul about the cable, and 
about the master's leg too, but with help of God 
he cleared himself, though not without sore bruising. 
The two mates were hviTt, one in the head, the other 
in the arm. One of our lustiest men had such a blow 
on the breast with a [capstan] bar, that he lay 
sprawling for life ; another had his head betwixt the 
cable, and hardly escaped ; the rest were flung, and 
sore bruised. But our gunner, an honest, duigent 
man, had his leg caught between the cable and 
capstan, which wrung off his foot, and tore all the 
flesh from his leg, crushed the bone to pieces, and 
sorely bruised his whole body — in which nuserable 
condition he remained crying, till we had recovered 
our memories and strengths to clear him. Whilst we 
were putting him and the rest down to the chirurgeon, 
the ship drove into shoal water, which put us all in 
fear ; but it pleased God the anchor held again, and 
we rode it out all night. By midnight, the chirurgeon 
had taken off the gunner's leg at the gartering-place, 
and dressed the others that were hurt and bruised, 
after which we comforted ectch other as well as we coukU 

August * ended with snow and hail, and the 
weather as cold as at anytime I have felt in England* 
Onwards worked the stout-hearted mariners, sorely 
baffled by terrible winds and raging seas, whicn 
made clear breaches over the labourmg bark, and 
wetted the bread in the store-room. No one * slept a 
wink in thirty hours,' and the boatswain was very 
sick, and fainted two or three times, so that they 
'verily thought he woidd presently have died.' On 
11th September, the sick men were put ashore on an 
island to search for sorrel-grass, or any other herb ; 
but in the evening, ' they returned comfortless.' The 
next day, the vessel struck on a rock 'out of mere care- 
lessness' of the watch on deck, who did not keep a 
proper look-out nor heave the lead, and who might have 
seen ihe land 'if they had not been blinded with self- 
conceit, and been enviously opjwsite in opinions.' To 
get the craft off, they furled sails, and laid out an 
anchor to heave her astern, passing the cable through 



38 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



the stem cabin on to the capstan. To lighten the 
yessel, the captain caused all the water-casKs in the 
hold to be staved, and the water pumped overboard, 
* and,' says the poor captain, ' I did intend to do the 
like witli our beer.' Ine coals were all thrown over- 
board, and the cables coiled in the long-boat, the ship 
beating so fearfully all the time that some of the 
sheathmff floated past. On heaving at the C2^)6tan, 
the anchor broke, and another was carried out. 
Thinking the vessel had got her * deatii's- wound,' 
they put arms and provisions in the boat, to be pre- 
pared for the expects emergency. For five hours, 
the vessel beat heavily, and at hust got off in a very 
leaky state. Being among rocks and shoals, a course 
was shaped northward, and Captain James now 
resolved to pass through the straits into Hudson's 
Bay, *and see,' said he, * if I could discover a way 
into the rivers of Canada, and if I failed of that, then 
to winter on the mainland.' On the 14th, they lost 
their shallop, or long-boat, and had only one poor 
boat left, in a shattered condition. For days, it 
snowed and blew heavily, and on the 19th, they 
anchored under lee of an island, which the^y named 
the Earl of Bristol's Island. By this time, it was so 
cold that the rigging was frozen every ni^t, and the 
snow half a foot thick on deck in a monung. On the 
21st, they stood to the southward, and coasted along 
till 2d October, when they anchored near an island 
which they named the Earl of Banb;^ Island, situ- 
ated at ihe southern extremity of Hudson's Bay. 
They found that people had been on the island, and 
that it was well wooded. On the 6th, they moored 
the vessel nearer the shore, and prepared to winter. 
The real interest of the narration may be said to 
commence here. Our adventurers had not pitched on 
a place to winter one day too soon. 

'The 7th, it snowed all day, and blew a storm 
withal; it froze so, that all the oows of the ship, with 
the beak-head, were all ice, and the cable was as big 
as a man's middle. The bows of the boat were frozen 
half a foot thick, so that we were fain to hew and 
beat it off. The sun shining very clear, we tore the 
topsails out of the tops, which were hard frozen in 
them, and let them hang a sunning all day, in a very 
lump, the sun not having power to thaw them. 
Seeing now the winter to come so extremely upon us, 
and fearing that we should not be able to go to and 
a^ain with the boat, we rowed ashore with much 
difficulty, and filled the boat with wood, and sent the 
carpenter and others to cut wood, we having but little 
aboard. It was miserably cold already aboard the 
ship, everything freezing in the hold and by the fire- 
side ; and since we could now no longer make use of 
our sails, we began to fear that here we must stay 
and winter. . . -. . The sick men desired that some 
little house or hovel might be built ashore, whereby 
tiiey might be sheltere(^ and recover their healths. 
I took the carpenter and another, and choosing out a 
place, they went immediately to work. In the mean- 
time, I with some others wandered up and down in 
the wood to see if we could discover any signs of 
savages, so that we might the better provide for our 
safeties against them : we found no appearance that 
there were any on this island or near it. The snow 
by this time was half-leg high, and stalking through 
it, we returned comfortJess to our companions, who 
had wrought hard upon our house. .... Tlie 12th, 
we took our mainsail from the yard, and carried it 
ashore to cover our house, having first thawed it by a 
great fire. By night they had covered it, and had 
almost hedged it about, and the six builders desired 
to lie in it that night, which I granted, having first 
furnished them witn muskets and other arms, and 
charging them to keep a good wateh all night They 
had also two greyhounds, which I had brought from 
England, to kill us some deer if we should see any.' 

Three days later, a small deer was captured, and 
others were seen, and this encouraged another party 



to hunt for came on the 17th ; but one of tlie number, 
the gunners mate, crossed some weak ioe, 'which 
ffave way, and he disappeared for ever. Tius &8t 
total acodent was gloomily felt by his Burviving 
shipmates. The greater part of this month the 
wind blew hard, and snow f eU with little ceBaation. 
Captain James, on the 1st of November, had a 
reckoning with his steward about the provisioiia, for 
they had now been out six months — one-third of the 
period for which they were victualled. They sent 
some beer ashore to the house, where it froze, and 
had to be thawed in a kettle. Near the house, they 
sunk & well, and got veiy good water, 'flattezing 
themselves that it tasted uke milk.' By the middle 
of the month, they were obliged to keep up a great 
fire night and day, smd it snowed and froze exces- 
sively. The slup became so incrusted with ioe as to 
resemble a small Ix^ and the captain spent loo^ 
ni^te aboard, pondering and tormenting hrmaelf with 
thmking how the vessel could be saved. We now 
find a sad and striking entry. * The 19th, onr gannflr, 
who, as you may rem^nber, had his leg cut on, grew 
veiy weak, desiring thai for the little time he had to 
live, he might drink sack aUogetker, which I ordered he 
should do» The 22d, in the morning, he died; an 
honest and a strong-hearted man. He had a dose- 
boarded cabin in the ^unrooin, and as many clothes 
on him as was convement, with a pan of ooaLs con- 
tinually in his cabin; notwithstanding thia, his 
plaster would freeze at his wound, and his bottle ol 
sack at his head. We put him in the sea at a good 
distance from the ship.' A second man gone for ever 
from the little crew ! One score is now the limit of 
their muster when all hands are called. Need have 
they of their stout hearts and iron frames !, 

Large sheets of ice now drifted around the ship^ 
and she was in great danger of being swept from her 
anchorage, which made the captain resolve the next 
day to ground the vessel in shoal water; bat this 
proved a difficult task, on account of vast sheete ol 
fresh ice driving against the bows, and dragsiiig the 
anchors. They had to set their sails, anoDreak a 
way through the ice to near the shore. 'Here,' 
remarks Captain James, ' Sir Hugh Willoughby came 
into my mind, who without doubt was driven out of 
his harbour in this manner, and starved at sea ; but 
God was more merciful to us.' When the vessel 
grounded at last, she rolled and beat so that they 
expected her to go to pieces. The next morning 
finding her aground, they consulted together, aiS 
resolved to land their provisions, and then heave ht^ 
the vessel in deeper w^er, and sink her for the winter. 
Immediate preparations were made, and on the 29th, 
they sank uie Henrietta Maria — a tedious task, for 
her sides were so fuU of nails, owing, we suppose, to 
the quantity of sheathing, that it was difficult to 
bore or cut holes. In setuing down, she beat ofiT her 
rudder, and the crew were obliged to sink the greater 
part of their bedding and clothes, and even tae sur- 
geon's chest. When they landed from the boat, they 
were * so frozen all over, faces, hair, and apparel, that 
we could not know each other by our habi& or voices.* 
This affair of sinking the vessel seems at first ai^t a 
suicidal act, but admits of easy explanation. &ey 
had reason to fear that the violent storms which pre- 
vailed woiUd dash the bark to pieces before she 
became frozen immovably, and tnat even in the 
latter case, she would sidOfer much more from the 
weather than if she were below the surface. Never- 
theless, much contrariety of opinion existed among the 
crew on the subject, the carpenter expressing his 
belief that the vessel would never be seaworthy again ; 
others, that the ice would rend her to pieces as she 
lay; and a third set of croakers intimated their 
conviction, that they never could get her off again, even 
if the ice spared her. Captain James cheered and 
encouraged them by many arguments, reminding them 
that if their worst forehodmgs were realised, thqr 



^ 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



39 



might build a pinnace from the wreck laij^ enough 
to sail homewstrd in ; and to inspirit that miportant 
personage the carpenter, promised him a present gift 
of plate to the valoe of L.10 sterling, and if they 
eventually went home in a pinnace, L.50 farther 
lewiurd, besides the pinnace itsdf . 

The bark appears to have been sunk on a sand-bed, 
BO shallow that the high-water barely reached the 
upper-deck, and aU han£ set to work to recover from 
her their clothes and provisions at low-water. The 
early days of December were chiefly spent in this 
wn^ce, L men sufferiog extremely 6om the ice and 
snow, and from having to wade ashore t^hrough the 
half-frozen water, as &ey could not force the laden 
boat nearer than an arrow's shot of the beach. ' As 
they waded through,' dolefully observes Captain 
James, 'they seemed like waUdng pieces of ice, 
most lamentable to behold.' By t£e 4th, the boat 
could no longer be worked from the ship to the shore, 
8o was secured alongside the former. On the 5th and 
6th, the poor fellows converted their 'store-shirts' 
into bags, and filled them with ' loose bread,' which 
they carried on their backs over the ice. * We also 
^gg^ our clothes and new sails with handspikes of 
iron out of the ice, and carrying them ashore, dried 
them by a great fire.' By the 19th, the cold had 
increased to such a degree uiat they could dig nothing 
more out of the hold, and had to leave all their beer, 
and five barrels of beef and pork, and other things, 
which were firmly frozen in the vessel — all the water 
in her hold being now converted into ice. On the 
23d, they tried to get the boat ashore by sliding her 
over oars, but such a fog came on that they had to 
desist, and got back to their house miserably frozen. 
We will here give a striking extract : 

' The cold had raised blisters upon some as big as 
walnuts : our well was now frozen, so that dig 'as 
deep as we could, we can come by no water. Melted 
snow-water is unwholesome, either to drink or to 
dress our victuals ; it made us so short-breathed, that 
we were scarce able to speak. All our sack, vinegar, 
oil, and everything else that was liquid, was now 
frozen hard as a piece of wood, and we must cut it 
with a hatchet. Our house was all frozen on the 
inside, and it froze hard within a yard of the fireside. 
When I landed first upon this ishmd, I found a spring 
nnder a hill's side, and caused some trees to be cut 
for marks to know the place again : it was about 
three-quarters of a mile irom our house, and I sent 
three of our men, who had formerly been with me, 
who, wading through the snow, at last found the 
place, and shovelling away the snow, made way to the 
very head of it. They found it spring very strongly, 
and brought me a can of it, for which I was very 
joyfuL ^uiis spring continued all the year, and did 
not freeze so much, but that we could break the ice 
and come to it.' 

They laid in a good stock of wood, and settled 
their mode of life, and kept Christmas Day holy, and 
solemnised it in as jojrful a manner as they could ; 
' so likewise,' adds uie narrator, ' did we St John's 
Day, upon which we named the wood we wintered 
in, Winter'a Forest^ in memory of that honourable 
knight. Sir John Winter.' The site they had selected 
for this house was the most sheltered spot they could 
find in the vicinity of the ship, an arrow's flignt from 
the beach, amid a thick clump of trees. They would 
have had an imderground haoitation, for the sake of 
warmth, but water sprang up when they dug to a 
moderate depth. The foundation was a fine white 
tand. Here is a description of the house^ which, like 
Several other passages m the narrative, may almost be 
imagined to have suggested to Dofoe certain x)ortions 
of his immortal Bobinson Crusoe: 'The house was 
about twenty feet square, as much as our main-course 
would well cover. First we drove strong stakes into 
the earth, which we wattled with boughs as thick as 
might be, beating them down very <Joee. This, our 



first work, was six feet [high] on both sides, but at 
the ends almost up to the very top [of the roof], where 
we left two holes tor the light to come in, and let out 
the smoke. At both ends we stuck up three rows of 
thick bush- trees, as close las possibly might be. Then 
at a distance from the house we cut down trees, pro- 
portioning them into lengths of six feet, with which 
we made a pile on both sides six feet thick, and as 
many high. We left a little low door to creep into, 
and a portal before it, made with piles of wood, that 
the wind might not blow into it. We then &^iened 
a rough- tree over all, upon which we laid our rafters, 
and our main-course over them, reaching down to the 
finx}und on either side, and so much for the outside. 
On the inside, we fastened our bonnet-sails round 
about ; then we drove in stakes, and made bedstead 
frames, which bedsteads were double, one under 
another, the lowermost being a foot from the ground. 
These we first filled with boughs, then laid on soma 
spare sails, and then our bedding and clothes. Wo 
made a hearth or causeway in the middle of the 
house, laying some boards round about it to stand 
upon, that tne cold damp should not strike up into 
us ; with our waste clothes we made us canopies and 
curtains. Our second house was not past twenty feet 
distant, and made much after the same manner, but 
less, and covered with our fore-coursa It had no 
piles on the south side, but instead of them we piled 
up all our chests on the inside, and, indeed, tbe reflex 
of the heat of the fire against them, did make it 
wanner than the mansion-house. In this house we 
dressed our victuals, and the inferior crew did refresh 
themselves all day in it. A third house, which was 
our store-house, we built twenty paces from this, for 
fear of firing. This house was only a rougb-tree 
fastened alof^ with rafters laid from it to the nound, 
and covered over with our new suit of sails. On the 
inside, we had laid small trees, and covered them over 
with boughs, whereon we laid our bread and fish, 
about two feet from the ground, the better to preserve 
tiiem. .... Long before Christmas, our mansion- 
house was covered with snow, almost to the very roo^ 
but our store-house all over, by reason we made no 
fire in it. We made paths of snow about the length 
of ten steps, and one of them was our best gallery 
for l^e sick men, and for my own ordinary walking.' 

During January 1632, they worked at the frame of 
their pinnace, and laid in a store of wood. By the 
commencement of that month, the sea was all firmly 
frozen over, and no open water in sight. We must 
pass over a long and curious dissertation which here 
occurs in the captain's journal, concerning hia opinions 
of the origin of the ice in vaist masses, only quoting 
his remark, that they ' fotmd it much colder to wade 
through the water in the beginning of June, when the 
sea was full of ice, than in December, when it [the ice] 
was increasing. Our well, also, which yielded water 
in December, had none in July.' In February, the 
ground was frozen ten feet in depth, and so extreme 
was the cold that many of the men complained, * some 
of sore mouths, all their teeth loose,' and divers othen 
serious* aibnents. Two-thirds of the crew were under 
the surgeon's hands, and yet they had to work daily 
to the utmost of their power, in getting wood and 
timber. Their feet were shoeless, for tiae fire had 
scorched their wet shoes so that they could not ^ 
them on, and their spare shoes were sunk in the ship. 
When they occasionally visited the latter, the cold 
would freeze their eyelashes together, so that they 
could not see ; and even in their house the clock and 
watch, although kept well wrapped up in clothes in a 
chest bv the fireside, * would not go.' Icicles hung 
inside the house ; hoar-frost covered the bed-clothee, 
even in the immediate vicinity of the fire. The suiv 
gcon's liquids were all frozen, as well as tbe small 
casks of vinegar, oil, and sack, kept in the hous& 
The cook's tubs, for steeping the salt-meat, stood 
within a yard of the fire, and in the course o£ m 



40 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



night-watch would freesze to the very bottom. The 
cook then steeped his meat in a braas kettle close to 
the fire, yet one side woold be warm, and the other 
aide frozen an inch thick. 



THE CALCUTTA ADJUTANT. 

A STRANGE interest, and very often considerable 
edification, resolts from a careful study of the habits 
and eccentricities of animals. 

The Adjutant, so generally associated with Calcutta, 
is one of the quaintest birds in its habits I have 
ever met with. I recollect having quite a strong desire 
to see this bird the first day I put my foot on Indian 
soil ; and in the evening, while crossing the Maidaun 
of Calcutta, towards the laree Bhurrumtollah Bazaar, 

my friend B , knowing (3 that desire, pointed out 

a row of these remarkable creatures to me. There 
they stood, like birds hewn out of stone — silent, fixed, 
and motionless. Nothing remains a novelty long. I 
have seen the Pyramids, and don't care to see tnem 
again ; I have seen Mount Sinai, and notwithstand- 
ing its venerable associations, I would scarce leave 
my cabin to size upon it a second time. What are 
flying-fish? Did one not fly into my cabin one night, 
in the Red Sea, when we were sailing over Pharaoh's 
host, and did I not throw its corpse away when it 
died, sick and tired of flying-fish and the eternal 
talk about them on board ? Water-spouts, snakes, 
lava — what, short of a mermaid or luucom, would I 
care to see twice? Boots at the HoUy Tree Tnn ! 
teU me whither went the imicom which you know 
you saw at the fair? Novelty is the shortest-lived 
thing on earth. There are dozens of Pompeys' Pillars 
to be seen in the factory chimneys in a railway 
ride from Hamilton to Glasgow ; the Irish Sea is 
as green, and deep, and wet aa the beloved Mediter- 
ranean ; Gibraltar Rock reminded me of the Bass ; 
Portobello bears a strong resemblance to Melita, 
where St Paul was shipwrecked; and the ugly 
Sphinx would disappoint the poet who writes so 
reverently of its * calm eternal eyes ! * 

The reader must imagine a large square of ground 
— say a quarter of an acre — covered with one-storied 
builoings, and intersected geometrically by several 
narrow pathways, and he has the principal European 
bazaar in Calcutta before him. On the roofs of tnese 
stalls, in the ' rainy season ' of India, are generally 
from twenty-five to forty adjutants, who seem to 
regard that bazaar as freehold property, to be held 
by them for perpetuity. There are hundreds of other 
adjutants within a circle of two miles diameter ; but 
the arrangement appears to be, that Calcutta shall be 
parcelled out like the London postal districts, and a 
certain number of adjutants posted in each division, 
for, after careful observation, I have never detected 
an intruder. 

These birds vary in size — I fancy, merely on account 
of age, for all the old members seem to be precisely 
the same in length of body, wing, and limb. They 
stand about five feet or five-feet-six high, have a long 
straight broad bill, much depressed, the upper man- 
dibles flattened, and terminated by a very strong hook, 
the lower formed by two bony branches, which are 
flexible, and united at the tip ; from these branches 
is suspended a naked skin, in form of a pouch ; face 
and throat naked; nostrils basal, in the form of 
narrow longitudinal slits ; legs long and thin ; all 
the four toes connected by a web ; and wings of great 
dimensions. These wings, when closed, vary some- 
times in colour, and some are nearly black, others of 
quite a fashionable mauve colour, ninged by under- 
teathers of a much lighter hue. There is a look of 
frailness about their legs ; and the owners of them 
move about with such a slow, statelv, dimified gait, 
that they make one believe that their Knee-joints 
are no better than they ought to be. The flaccid 
membraaoua pouch or bag under their throat is very 



different to the one possessed by the speciea of 
pelican shewn in English zoological gardens. Tbis 
appendage of the adjutants has a very good model at 
home in those burnt-sienna coloured colossal sanBagai 
— if they are sausages — exposed in the cheesemongen^ 
windows. They are about eighteen inches long, and 
capable of great distension, as I can bring an illus- 
tration to prove. I was standiujg the other day xa 
a verandah, which flanked one side of an mrasuially 
extensive and picturesque garden, when I heard a mar- 
vellous declamation pour forth from the harsh throats 
of nearly two hundred crows. They were perched oq 
cornices, balustrades, copings, trees, in short, every- 
where. The subject of this mighty tumult was a raw- 
headed old adjutant, who, by causes and for reasons 
unknown to me, had provoked the indignatioii of 
his feathered neighbours. Leaving their perches, 
they descended upon him, until, as he who penned 
Hiawaiha describes it, Hhe air grew dark witlt 

Sinions.* The adjutant is in nowise organised for 
efence; he shuns man and beast (never jostling 
in the street-crowd, as insinuated in many comic 
engravings), and the impertinent crows had by iar 
the best of this recluse. They attacked him prin- 
cipally about the head, which has at all times a Dare 
and sore appearance. At last, driven to desperation, 
the adjutant, by a manoeuvre, possibly more by 
accident than good managem^t, succeeded in seizinff 
one of his bold foes with his large and powerful bilL 
The black victim fluttered and struggled strenuously 
for a minute or two, during which time its captor 
was engaged in making his nold of his enemy more 
complete. The hour of that bird's dissolution had 
arrived, and he was not to die as other crows have 
died from time immemorial ! There were two or three 
violent efforts made on the part of the adjutant, and 
in a moment more, the crow, body and lunb, claws, 
feathers, and bill, was in the sienna-toned pouch of 
the great avenger ! He who writes it saw it done. 

A friend of mine, whose cat had presented who- 
ever chose to have them with a family of five kittens, 
resorted to the customary mode of annihilation, and 
submitted them to a watery grave. At the end <^ 
this sad affair, the corpses were thrown upon a heap 
of offaL An adjutant descended, and with the gusto 
of Vitellius over a Brundusium or Lucrine oyster, 
d^osited the whole in his convenient receptacle. 

This respected scavenger-bird is often made sub- 
servient to that basest of alT uses — a practical 
joke. The editor of Major Anderson's Siege <^ 
LvcJbiow informed me, that he had repeatedly seen 
* griffs ' (raw cadets) fill an empty marrow-bone 
with gunpowder, then attach a slow fuse to it; 
and place it on the ground in sight of an adjutant. 
Quick would be the descent, and the disappearance 
of the fatal bone. Another moment, and as the 
bird flapped loudly through the air, came the catas- 
trophe — a loud report, a general explosion, and the 
mangled adjutant was a scavenger no more. There 
was another equivocal shape which the griff's drollery 
assumed. Two such bones, without the oeadly powder, 
would be attached to each other by means of a long 
rope, and two adjutants — each swallowing one bone — 
would often find an attachment formed between them 
hkcly to last through life. 

Yet harmless to an extreme are these strange 
eccentric birds, never-wearied scavengers in a city 
where disease is rife, and where he who dined wim 
us yesterday may never sit at another table again. 
Br^, potatoes, or other vegetables, afford no charm 
whatever; but after you mive cast away the most 
contemptible fragment 'of flesh, flv-eaten and heat- 
tainted, ten seconds do not elapse before an adjutant 
has disposed of it. Now ana then arises a faint 
struggle among them for the same morsel, but they 
are not obdurate ; their maxim is, * Each one for 
himself,* but also, * Live and let live.' 

So useful and necessary are these birds to Calcutta, 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



41 



that ft heavy penalty is levied upon any person who 
is the direct or indirect means of causing the death of 
one of them ; and I have found considerable difficulty 
in obtaining a deceased one for my small museum. 
Thejy' are pre-eminently the head of the *scaYen|B;er 
&mily,' wnich here mdudes vultures, and white- 
tippeted hawks, myriads of white-breasted crows, and 
troops of howling jackals — ^the last of which, how- 
ever, only make their appearance in the night-time. 
The adjutant's 'cry very much resembles water 
flowing from a narrow-necked bottle ; and it invari- 
ably utters it when about to swallow a piece of offaL 
When they fly, their immense wings naturally cause a 
loud rushing sound ; and I grieve to say that in these 
flights over your head, it too often happens that 
vermin of an exceedinslv repulsive genus drop upon 
you, for the adjutant, uke the vulture, has its body 
covered with such parasites. I have seen a crow 
dance slyly up to a 'viilture, and under tiie very nose 
of that august presence, peck at the tenants of his 
bosom. 

A remarkable instance of death, caused by an adju- 
tant, occmred at Berhampore a few years aga A 
youn£ officer was on paraae-ground, and when in the 
act 01 tummc a somewhat abrupt comer, an adjutant, 
flyings rapidfy with great impetus from an opposite 
direction, passed his nuge bill through the miiortu- 
nate officers head. With such means ol travelling, 
it is no wonder that in the hot season there ia scarcely 
one adjutant to be seen in Calcutta ; and when these 
birds return, they are sure heralds of the coming 
rains, the worst season in India. The scene (3 
their rustication is the remote and secluded swamps 
and marshes of the North-west Provinces, where, m 
the grassy nest amid the sedges, they first emerged 
from th^ shelL The eggs, generally two, are 
white, and of equal roundness at each end, and the 
mother has the power of lifting them in her bill, 
when alanned or intruded upon, and flying with them 
to another retreat ; occasionally, too, she hides them 
beneath the water. If, as is sometimes the case, she 
deposits her youn^ in a dry or desert region, she 
brings them water m her gular pouch, which contains 
about twenty pints of liquid. In the same degree as 
the crow is impertinent and presumptuous, so is the 
adjutant stolid and shy, seemmg to regard mankind 
as a mischievous invention. As he stands on one 
leg, his other foot resting on his knee, he reminds 
me of the stork in Raphaers cartoon, to which 
memorable bird Topham Beauclerc likened his hmky 
friend, Bennet Luigton. 

It was with the ancient people of India that 
metempsychosis, or transmigration of the soul, first 
gained credence ; and with this doctrine is connected 
the regard which the Indians have for animalfl. 

Abandoninff one's self to this belief for awhile, it 
is no difficiut task to euess who the 'Calcutta 
adjutant' really is. As I was being borne across 
the Maidaun to-day in a palanquin, I as distinctly 
met Aristotle advancing towards me — in the out- 
ward form of an adjutsmt— «s I have strength now 
to record the incident. He was in such a brown 
study, that my bearers nearly upset him in their rapid 
course. He was not standing still, but keeping up 
the old peripatetic system, and was evidently wrapt 
deep in his aosbrusest logic— whether applied to appe- 
tite or volition, I cannot telL He only honoured me 
with a slight look, not a furtive or cowardly glance — 
far from it — but as if he saw from my appearance 
that I iDOuld not help him in his difficulty. Had my 
head been covered, I might have uncovered it, in 
sudden respect and admiration for him. I r should 
like to have asked him how he got on under the 
metemp^chosis system; if he thought as highly of 
it practically as he did theoreticafiy ; or whether 
be had heard how the school he founded became 
so famous ; how Theophrastus had written some 
channing works on natural history; how the dogmatic 



tone and subtle distinctions of his own philosophy 
pleased more than Plato's doubts and aUegoncal 
language ; but there was present tiiat divinity about 
the bird which is said to hedge kings, and which 
completely sealed my lips. 

He walked away witn the most absorbing stateli- 
ness, his venerable head — scudding as he was under a 
bare poll — shining in the hot sun. I would have 

fiven a lac of rupees, if I had had it, to have known 
is thoughts; but as that was impossible, I merely 
murmur^ * Juldee jao ' (Go quickly) to my bearers, 
and consoled mjaeii with the unalterable conviction, 
that my exile to India had given me a distinction 
high above my fellows — that of meeting face to face, 
with time to notice him carefully, the immortal 
Aristotle. 

Returning by the same route two hours afterwards, 
and in good spirits at the thought of seeing the 
philosopher again, I naturally looked out for him 
with eagerness. To my disappointment, however, 
I espied nim on the uppermost oomice of one of the 
Chowringhee palaces, calmly occupied in taking a 
bird's-eye view of the world below. There arose a 
loud cry &om a fashionable residence in the vicinity, 
that a splendid stratum of offid had been discovered 
there in a heap of kitchen refuse, and the adjutant, 
master now over the tenant of his bosom, raised his 
wide-reaching wings, and flapped with noisy heaviness 
through the air, unidl he swooped upon the newly 
found repast, to secure his portion. 

SOLDIERS' WIVES. 

As public attention has of late years been drawn to 
the condition of soldiers, a few particulars respecting 
their families, and what is done for them by govern- 
ment, may not be uninteresting. 

First, then, no married man, unless in some special 
case, as that of an armourer, &&, is enlisted for the 
army ; but as many married men desire to enter the 
service, they frequently declare themselves single, 
are attested as such, in #hich cases their wives are 
shut out for periods of indefinite duration from the 
privileges accorded to those who are on the establish- 
ment of a regiment. Again, when a soldier wishes to 
marry, he should make application to his commanding 
officer for leave to do so ; in many cases, the officer, 
from considerations of the man's youth, inability to 
maintain a family, or from the number of soldiers' 
wives permitted to be on the strength of the corps 
being suready complete, declines to sanction the step ; 
but the authorities having no power to prevent a 
soldier's marriage, it often occurs that a man marries 
without permission, and his wife remains for many 
years unrecognised in the regiment as a married 
woman, and unless able to obtain employment, 
suflers great privations. 

For obvious reasons, a commanding officer is invested 
with the power of selecting soldiers* wives for the 
privilege of being placed on the strength of his corps 
when vacancies exist. 

The terms * on the strength,' or * on the establish- 
ment,' mean participation in the following benefits — 
namely, when at home, quarters in barracks with their 
husbands, or in lieu thereof, an allowance of 4d. a day 
for lodging ; carriaj^e free on the removal of the regi- 
ment from one station to another ; education for their 
children ; and partial employment in re^mental wash- 
ing. The proportion of women admitted to these 
privileges has lately been increased. In addition, a 
marriea man is sometimes permitted to be *out of 
mess' — that is, to receiving his pay without stoppa^ 
for ration, to supply himself with provision, or what is 
more usual and economical, to receive the ration for 
consumption with his family. 

The soldier and his wile participate, with other 
classes, in the social and economic advanta^ra of the 
times ; thus, the stoppage for a soldier's daily ration 



42 



CHAMBEES'S JOURNAL. 



formerly 6d., but since tha adoption of free-trade 
principleB, by which the cost of the ration to the public 
18 lessened, the stoppsffe has been reduced to 44d. 
Quarters for mamed s^diers have been j^vided at 
several of the principal military stations, m place of 
their families odng compelled to live in ordinary 
barrack-rooms. 

When a reeiment is sent abroad, not on active ser- 
vice, the families obtain passages ; quarters, or allow- 
ances for lodginff ; half -rations for each woman ; and 
quarter-ratiomi For each child. The proportion of 
soldiers' wives permitted to accompany troops to 
India, China, and Australia is 12 per cent, and to 
other stations abroad, abput 9 per cent, beine 6 per 
cent for the drummers and rank and file, with some 
advantages to the sergeants. But when, as in the 
case of the late Indiui Mutiny, troops embark for 
active service, and the famihes cannot be permitted to 
accompany them, allowances of 6d. a day have been 
granted to each woman, with 2d. a day for each child, 
until circumstances admitted of their being sent out ; 
and in consequence of the numerous reinforcements 
sent to India m 1857 and 1858, a great number of sol- 
diers' fiimilies who had been left behind, were paid 
such allowances. 

In 1859, the state of afiSairs in that country admit- 
ting di their being sent out, upwards of 2000 women 
ana neaxiy 3000 children were embarked in thirteen 
vessels, under arrangements made by the authorities 
at the Horse Guards and the Emigration Commis- 
sioners ; and in the last autumn, nearly 600 women 
and 700 children were forwardeid in tive ships to 
India. These families were brought from their homes 
to a port of embarkation — Plymouth, Southampton, 
Birkenhead, or Gravesend — by passage and railway 
warrants, documents issued by the quarteivmaster- 
general, which enabled them to travel at the pubhc 
expense ; and were placed in the emigrant d6p5ts at 
the three first-mentioned places, and in lodgings at 
Gravesend, on arrival, by staff-officers of pensioners, 
who also embarked every person after medical exami- 
nation, and xMud a sum of twenty shillings to each 
woman, with ten shillings ior each child, granted by 
the Indian government towards providing necessaries 
and outfit for the voyage. In addition to this, the 
Society for Improving the Condition of Soldiers' and 
Sailors' Wives Idndly placed a lan^e sum of money at 
the disposal of the military authorities, to provide 
clothing for the most destitute of the families. One 
woman, probably from fear and excitement, jumped 
overboard before the vessel left her moorings, but was 
immediately picked up; another was detected in 
selling her embarication-order to a woman who was 
not entitled to a passage, but who was to personate 
the other until arrival in India ; while, as an instance 
of the extreme destitution of some of these poor 
women when separated from their husbands, it may 
be mentioned that one of them arrived at Liverpool 
from Ireland for embarkation with no other article 
of clothing than a man's greatcoat, for a soldier can- 
not be compelled to allot any portion of his pay for 
the purpose of his wife's support 

It could hardly be expected that so large a number 
of persons would reach their destination without 
casualties. In some of the vessels, a great mortality 
occurred, principally among the children ; and one 
vessel (the Conway) was so shattered by ^cs as to 
compel its abandonment, the passengers, without any 
loss of life, but minus baggage, having been taken on 
by another vessel, and landed at Madeira, this for- 
tunate result being in a great measure due to the 
efforts of an officer. Quarter-master Neville, 70th 
Kegiment, and a few soldiers, each vessel having been 
furnished with a party of married soldiers — accom- 
panied by their families — to assist in preserving order 
cm the voyage. 

One of the women who were landed at Madeira, 
was recalled to England, by an official letter, as after 



her departure, information had been reoeived of her 
husband's death in India; and of those wbo axzxved 
in other ships at their destination, some fdmid that 
their husbands had proceeded with their ccMps to 
China ; a small portion of these last weare retaniad 
to England, others remained in India, awaitmg tiis' 
tennination of hostilities in China ; but in either cam^ 
the allowanoes were resumed. 

Such are some of the vidssitudes attending tiis 
families of an army whose duties call it to all qnarten 
of the globe. 



THE FAMILY SCAPEGRACE. 

CHAPTKS T. — A COOL XSCSPTIOX. 

It had lona been customary wiiii Mr Ingram Arbour, 
since his brother's death, to leave Golden Sqoan 
upon Friday afternoons for the cottage by the riveiv 
wnere he would remain till Monday morning, when 
the earliest train from the neighbouring town would 
convey him back refreshed to the haunts of conuneroe. 
On these occasions, his nephew, Adolphua, woidd 
accompany him, except when business of any preaomg 
nature detained him in the city ; and upon the Satar- 
day evening we have in our mind, these two gentle- 
men were sitting in the widow's drawing-room witiii 
the rest of the family circle, exclusive of Johnnie and 
Dick, who were at school Thirteen yean or so had 
passed over them since we first made their acquaint- 
ance, biinmng change to each, although in dmeient 
measure. The lines upon the merchant's brow wers 
now as numerous again, as th(mgh they were mled 
for double entry, and although his eyes lacked nothing 
yet of their stern determination, the * hateful crow*^ 
had set its footmarks round them. Mrs Benjamin 
Arbour had suffered a severer change than he. Time, 
which had spared to mark her still smooth brow, had 
frosted her brown hair, and driven the lifeblood ^m 
her cheeks, and weighed her eyelids down ; they 
seemed to droop as those of some traveller in the 
snow, to whom Death whispers, mocking the sweet 
tones of Sleep. Her gentle voice was weary; her 
smiles were rare and faint, and died away as swift 
as dip of oar from face of river. Except for the 
girl beside her, almost a woman now — ^Iden-haired, 
angel-featured Maggie — standing beside her mother's 
chair, and as thoughthat was not near enough, nor gave 
sufficient assurance of her protecting love, with one 
arm round her neck, and one lily hand clasped in ha» 
so tenderly — except for her little Maggie, the mother 
must have died. ' My sister-in-law,' Mr Ingram 
Arbour would sometimes remark to common friends, 
'is just like one of those creepers which require a 
stick to hold on to life by, and can't stand up of 
themselves.' To which Mrs Arbour might nave 
retorted — if the i)oor lady had had such a thing aa 
a retort left in her by this time, which was not the 
case — that her brother-in-Liw was one of those peculiar 
sticks which no creeper can ever be trained to ding to, 
although some few may submit to be bound to them 
by the Dass of self-interest. 

Adolphus, too, whose mouth had increased with 
his years till it almost sought for refuge in the 
sandy tracts of his whiskers, entertained but a poor 
opinion of his mother, and was continually woxuier- 
ing to himself from whom his own exceeding sagacity 
could have been inherite<l ; while Maria, who had 
taken tfie whole household management out ol 
the widow's hands, was for ever contrasting the 
improved state of domestic aff&irs with that of the 
ola regime under her predecessor. The relation 
of that person to herself could have been scarcely 
unknown to her, but so completely were her private 
feelings under control, and so paramount was her 
sense of truth and duty, that, hearing her inveigh 
against the extravagance, weakness, and even £e 
irreligion of a certain late head of a family, you would 







nerfer hsve gofiBoed that she was speakixiff ftU the 
time ef her own mother. She it wa» to wnom the 
disooyery wbs due that the maids were sLugmuds in 
winter, and who canaed her bedroom fire uToe lit by 
half -past six A.3L, in order that one of them, ai least, 
shoald not lie too long. YeUow-Bkinned Maria was 
ci a snaky temperament, and wanted a good deal of 
warming but sne was IxkelT to be oold enough — as 
I>r Nereraleep once observed of her, with no kss force 
than freedom — if her caloric depended upon her being 
taken to anybody's bosom. Indeed, how Adc^phns 
and she ever managed to keep up an allisjiflft, as they 
did (offensive in every sense), is a mat mystory, since 
there was scarce half a trowelfu of social cement 
of any sort between them. He oertaaily did not 
sympathise with her doabline the cnstomaxy length of 
the evening devotions, whi(£, in the exercise of her 
domestic sapremacy, she had seen it ri^t to do. That 
voong man always kndt down with his face well over 
the newspaper, while his sister, the priesteaB, delivered 
ber denunciatioDS as if she cDioyed them, and even 
rasped oat the benedictions thonselves as though 
they were steel-filings. Uncle Ingram's devotional 
attitade was the leaning back on his ann-chair as 
far as he could go, with his hands cAasped upon his 
lap, and his legs crossed one over the oilier; while, 
doubtless to conceal the force of his penitential 
emotions, his pocket-handkerchief was modestly cast 
over his head and fBce. 

Maggie and her mother knelt together with their 
heads over one cushion; and the two maids were 
stationed as far from the rest of the household as the 
Ibnite of the little drawing-room would permit, between 
the windows, and in a thorough draught. Neverthe- 
less, woe to Jane or Bachel if a cough from either 
of tiiem should interrupt their spiritual pastoress; 
while it would have been positively * as much as her 
place was worth,' had either of them Uown her 
nose. 

Imagine, therefore, the scene that ensued upon the 
evening of which we write, when, immediately upon 
the commencement of praye^^ the back-door bell was 
heard to tinkle with a sort of guilty indecision. Miss 
Maria read on as though there were nothing audible 
beyond the breathing of Uncle Ingram, whicb always 
began to be stertorous coinddently with the com- 
mencement of family deyotions ; but she had more 
than a smpician tnat it was the baker's youn^ 
man comix^ surreptitiously after Jane, and she took 
one eye off the sacred page, and set it to watch the 
behavioiir of that unfortunate domestic Again the 
bell sounded through the house — this time with a 
more decided intention of making itself heard, and 
Jane turned round imploringly to entreat perminicm 
to answer it, with a face like a tomato from confusion ; 
but upon meeting the sentinel eye with a decidedly 
forbidaing expression in it, returned, more like a Jeru- 
salem artichoke in hue, to her cane-bottomed chair. 
A third time the back-door beU sounded, and pulled 
upon this occasion by so impatient a hand, that you 
could hear the wire rattle, and the bell-metal beat 
against the skirting-board. 

* Wbj the devil don't somebody answer that bell ? ' 
broke forth Uncle Ingram, awakened by the tumult, 
and not being able to call to mind, upon the instant, 
the nature of the occupation in which he was sup- 
posed to have been engaged. Jane rushed out of the 
room at a permissive signal from Miss Maria, while 
the rest of the household awaited, in positions half 
expectant, half devout, whatever catastrophe chanced 
to be impending. They heard the lock turned, and 
the chain unfastened, and a *Lor' bless me ! ' from the 
absent cook ; then the door was banged to by another 
hand, a hasty step came along the passage, and there 
presented himself — Master Dick ! 

'Ton young scoundrel,' roared Uncle Ingram, 'what 
do you mean by breaking in here like a bursar at 
sncn a tune as this?' 



' He has run away from Mhool,' suggested Mr 
AdolphaB Arbour, msliciously. 

* We are at prayersy sir,' emphasised ICss Maria, 
loo^g like Torquemada in pettmoats. 

' What is the matter, love? ' cried Maggie tendedy, 
running up to the hag^ud-looking lad. 

'I am expelled, dear mother,' exclaimed he, in a 
miserable voice. ' I 've cut Bill Demmey's eye out 
with a snow-ball, thou^ I 'm sure I didn't mean itL 
They expelled me, and so I thou^t I'd c(mie away 
at once.' 

' You young ruffian! ' exclaimed Uncle Lupnom 

'Hell come to be hung!' observed XdolphMK 
reflectively. 

' And then the devil will get him,' added Maria, 
with the air of one who foresees the future without 
dissatisfaction. 

'Mother, won't you speak to me?' asked the 
wretched boy. ' I don't care for what the&e say; but 
do, pray, speak to me.' 

'You don't care for your eldest brother^ {hen?' 
demanded Maria, severely. 

'No; nor for you either,' responded Dick, bestow- 
ing one fiery ghmce upon his mteriocutor, and tlMH 
fixing, as b^re, his appealing eyes upon his mother 
only. 

'You don't care for your Uncle Ingram, thent' 
remarked the crafty Adolphua 

'Come to mamma,' interposed Maggie, judiciously; 
' I am sure she will never condemn you witiiout a 
hearing.' 

Mrs Arbour was sitting in her chair with her hands 
before her weepine eyes, and was dad enough to 
buiy her face in me boy's curls as lie knelt down 
before her. 

'Hush, Dicky dear, don't sob, don't sob,' she 
whisx)ered; 'I don't believe yon are so bad as they 
make out' 

*I did not mean to cut BiU Dempsey's eye out,' 
murmured Dick, hysterically; 'but tney all believe 
I did' 

'It doesn't signify what you meant, you little 
blackguard, if you did it,' observed Uncle Ingram, 
taking his usual practical View of things. ' It 's my 
belief your mother will be your ruin. Letitia, what 
does the Bible recommend us to do with boys like 
these?' 

' Whip 'em,' observed Maria, with conciseness, and 
in order that the advice mi^t not be lost in Eastern 
metaphor. 

* I nave been whipped,' cried the lad, lifting up his 
head. ' Mr Camwun beat me till his cane frayed oat 
at the edges.' 

* Not enough, sir,' returned the implacable Maria. 
' If I were your mother ' 

' Yes, but you ain't,' interrupted the victim sharply; 
'you're nobody's mother, miss, and Dr Nevenueep 
saya that you 're never likely to be anybodjr's either. 
Don't you eo bullying me, now, or I 'U begin saying 
things, mind you.' 

The lad's whole body trembled with passion in 
every fibre; his eyes aarted fire as he spoke, and 
there seemed to be every probability of his 'saying 
things,' and of a very disagreeable character too; 
when, at a si^ from Uncle Ingram, Adolphus picked 
Dick up, and tearing him with not a little violence 
out of his motiier's arms, carried him out of the 
room. 

Then there was a total silence, presently broken by 
' thuds ' — blows struck with a stick against an unre- 
verberating body — from a neighbourmg apartment, 
but not one cry. 

* I cause it to be done for his own good, Letitia, 
and for your §ood,' observed Uncle Ingram, in explana- 
tion, and with composure, but keeping his eyes 
averted from the object of his benevolence never- 
theless. 

' Mamma has fainted ! ' cried Maggie with a piercing 



44 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



shriek. * Tell Adolphua to stop— Bomebody. You'll 
kill her amongst you, at last, I do believe.' 

' Good Heavens ! ' cried Uncle Ingram, frightened 
out of his wits by an occorrence so entirely out of 
his own experience, *why doesn't the fool stop? 
Run, Maria.' 

Maria did not stir; but Rachel ran into the dining- 
room straightway, and almost upset Mr Adolphns, 
who was coming out with a face whiter than usuaL 

* I want a poultice,' observed he to the astonished 
domestic ; and indeed he did, for Master Dick — ^whose 
hands he had taken the precaution of securing — ^had 
made his teeth meet m the fleshy part of his 
corrector's thimib. 

CHAFTSB VL ^ 

FAL8BLT ACCV8SD. 

The next day, being Sunday, was passed, by Maria's 
directions, in total silence as reeardea the events of the 
preceding evening. It was to be ' a day of rest for all,* 
observed that young lady with an air of charity ; and 
it was occupied by nerself and faction in contriving 
severities applicable to Master Richard's case upon 
the morrow. To Dick it was rather a cUiy of suspense 
than rest, which are not identical things by any 
means ; and to his mother, it was twenty-four long 
hours of agony. This lady had obtained Uncle 
Ingram's protection for her ofBipring at a considerable 
sacrifice. She had never had much of that female 
peculiarity popularly, or unpopularly, known as *a will 
of her own, for the deceased Benjamin had given way 
to all her gentle wishes in small concerns, while 
in important matters the two always lovin^y 
agreed ; and now, finding herself crossea and demed 
upon all occasions under the new dynasty, she had 
for many years ceased to express her feelings in public, 
and only now and then lightened her breaking heart 
to Magae, who slept in me same chamber. Sie had 
taken Richard's hand in hers under her shawl at 
church that day, feeling safe from reproof within that 
sacred building, and mother and child had thus inter- 
changed all sorts of affectionate thoughts together, 
merely by the pressure of their fingers. 

Maria bad regarded them with lofty scorn, and on 
one occasion even contemplated the rapping of Dick's 
disengaged hand, which^ lacked a prayer-book, but she 
thought it upon the whole more prudent to resist that 
temptation; so she contented herself with pitching 
her nymns at him (not of course her hymn-book), and 
of repeating with peculiar stress sucn parts of the 
service as might be strained to apply to an unre- 
generate youth of his description. Adolphus secretly 
trod upon his toes during we anthem, and upon his 
brothers resenting that indignity without tne like 
precautions, jgave an appealing look to Uncle Ingram, 
who instantfy made a note of the o£fence in the 
memorandum tablets which he always carried about 
with him, and used without the slightest reference to 
time or place. ' 

' I'm afraid, Maggie,' whinpered the widow, sobbing, 
when she and her younger daughter had retired to 
their chamber on Sunday nigh^*I am afraid that 
they will send our poor dear £chard to sea.' 

'Surely not, dear mother, answered Macgie quickly ; 
' he is but a child, you know ; and besio^, they will 
not dare to do it unless you give consent.' 

Mrs Benjamin Arbour signed ; if ahe had not had 
a little speck of pride still left within her, she would 
probably have sx>oken; but Maggie understood her 
all the same. 

*Why, what has our Dick done, mother, beyond 
his being a little mischievous and unruly ? He does 
not treat Maria and Adolphus respectfully, it is true, 
but they on their parts are veiy far from und to him. 
This snow-baJl business is a very sad one, of course, 
but it is not clear that he is to blame, or even certain 
that he did the misdiief.' 






' Bless you, my dear Maggie,' returned her moth e r, 
* for saying what all day long my heart has yearned 
to say, fmd dared not ; but you see, my child* your 
Uncle Ingram is so haid and stem, and your brother 
and sister ' 

'Nay, mamma,' interrupted the young girl gently; 
' you surely know far better than they what la good 
for Richud ; and as for Uncle Ingram, he means us all 
well enou^ I 'm sure. If you will let me q)eak to 
him — in your name, as it were, for, in vour pr^ent 
state of health, such an excitement would be ' 

*No, Maggie, no,' cried the poor lady, *I must 
shrink from nothing for Dick's sake, and for the sake 
of liiTu who left him in my charge. Uncle Ingram 
may take all away except my boy, but he must leave 
me him — he must leave me Richard. O child, you 
know not how his baby-face once comforted me, 
when Death was in this room, and misery everywhere. 
He shall never, never, never go to sea.' 

We are aware that an apology is due, on the part of 
this poor lady, for the display of this unreasonable 
abhorrence of the maritime profession. It is probable 
that her thoughts were not directed towards Her 
Majesty's navy, or even to those celebrated Al vessels 
in ike proprietorship of Messrs Green and others ; she 
merely looked upon the sea as a huge separator 
between herself and him committed to it, and her 
view was, so far, a correct one. 

* Mother, mother dearest,' replied Maggie, * if you 
will allow me to go down alone to-morrow morning, 
I promise you that what you fear shall not take 
place ; and if there is any chance of its taking place, 
that you shall be sent for. Will you not trust 
me, mother? Promise me that you will not rise 
to-morrow, or, at least, not come down stairs.' 

Good Maggie, cunning Maggie, serpent and dove in 
one, that was well said. Mrs Arbour wisely assented 
to be more unwell than usual upon the morrow. 
When tjrrants rule, there is no resource for us but 
dissimulation. 

Accordingly, upon the next morning, the arm-chair 
— svmbol of empty state — ^that stood beside the tea- 
maKer, was vacant, and the company was quietly 
informed by Maggie that mamma was not coming 
down. The who& armoury of offensive weapons, 
therefore, which had been stacked in more than one 
bosom, in readiness for the expected discussion, became 
at once next to valueless — old stores to be parted with, 
at enormous sacrifice, even if they foimd any market 
at aU. 

Yellow Maria slipped from the apartment, and came 
backpurple. 

*Wnat is the meaning of this, Margaret? I can't 
get into mamma's room. 

*No, dear,' replied that young lady with great 
sweetness; 'she is not well this morning, and must not 
be disturbed. I locked her door myself, and have got 
the key. Dr Neversleep says it is not good for ner 
to be made to faint.' 

' I don't understand your languxure, Margaret,' 
quoth Maria with asperity. ' Who ms^es her faint, I 
snduld like to know ?' 

'Adolphus did it on Saturday,' returned Maggie, 
with the quiet air of a narrator of facts ; * but nobody 
will do it to-day, at all events.' 

* Look where he bit my thumb ! ' observed Adolphus, 
apologetically, and exhibiting the injured digit. 

'You had better keep it covered up,' remarked 
Ma^e drily ; ' the air will only make it worse ; and 
bes^s, it isn't pretty to look at.' This yoimg lady 
was a lamb in all matters that concerned herself, but 
now that she had mother and brother to defend, she 
was a lioness with cubs. 

Adolphus and Maria quailed before her, and the 
more so because they knew that Uncle Ingram loved 
her. Under her protecting wing, Master Dick dipped 
largely into the muffin d6pdt intended for his seniors. 
Mr Ingram Arbour's coimtenance exhibited an 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



45 



indednon not beooming to it. 'I don't understand 
tluB, Miarsaret,' <^uoth he at last ; ' to hear you talk, 
one would imacine that this bov had deserved no 
punishment at aU. He has actually cut another boy's 
eye out — a most respectable lad.' 

'Son of the banker,' inteipolated Adolphus, in a 
tone adapted to the description of a sacrilege. 

* I didn't mean to do it/ retorted Dick with indig- 
nation, and Ins mouth indecorously f ulL 

'Hold your tongue, sir,' observed Miss Maria 
solemnly. 

*I shan't,' responded Dick with improved dis- 
tinctness. 

'Silence, Dick: please to be ouiet,' said Maggie. 
And Dick became as mute as a fisn. 

' It may have been quite an accident, imcle, as he 
asserts,' continued the peace-maker; 'nor is it even 
fully proved that he did it at alL' 

' Au the boys say he had a grudge against Dempeey, 
and threw at him on purpose/ observed Adolphus. 

' It is not tmusual for some persons to believe the 
worst of their fellow-creatures.' 

'But Johnnie says so himself, and he's his brother,' 
retorted Adolphus. 

'His brother r repeated Maggie scornfully, without 
farther rejoinder; but a less sagacious man than 
Uncle Infipun could have read in her flashing eyes 
i^e rest of her reply. 

' Tes,' answered he, 'there is certainly a bad 
feeling, Adolphus, between you and RicharcL There 
is something in what Margaret saya^ after alL I do 
not thhik I should be quite justified in sending 
him' .... 

Maria held her finser up forbiddingly; it was for 
a sin^e instant only, but* Maggie caught its reflection 
in the mirror opposite, and turned upon her instantly, 
as the faithful sheep-dog on the woll 'No, Maria, 
he is not to be sent to sea. His mother told me to 
say that mudL Not to sea.' 

' She must have been listening/ said Maria to her- 
self, ' when I and Uncle Ingram talked it over in the 
dinmg-room last night. How careless it was of me 
not to have thought of looking into the china-closet 
first, as I generally do ! ' 

'I have made up my mind to give him another 
dianoe,' said Mr Ingram Arbour; 'although I much 
doubt whether he deserves it. I shall put him at 
once into my own office, in some capacity where he 
will be pretty sharply looked after. You know your 
aritfametio pretty well, I suppose. Mister ?' 

The thought of Practice flitted momentarily over 
poor Dick's mind, casting a bat-like shadow ; but he 
answered, ' Tes, uncle,' with tolerable cheerfulness. 

'Then that's arranged,' quoth his new proprietor 
decisively ; ' and you will pack up at once, and 
accompany your brother ana me by the mid-day 
train io town*' ^ 

'Not to-day, uncle,' repliraDick with finnness, 
although he looked terribly frightened. 'I wiU go 
to-morrow, but not to-day.' 

* Yon — ^will — ^not — go ! ' exclaimed the merchant 
witii awful distinctness and solemnity. ' Did I tmder- 
stand yon to say, sir, that you — will — ^not — go ? ' 

This recaldtrancy, so far exceeding the hopeful 
expectations of his eldest brother and sister, slruck 
those worthies dumb ; even Maggie could but whisper : 
* Richard, Richard, you will rum yourself, in spite of 
all that can be done for you ! ' 

* I must see William Dempsey before I go,' explained 
the lad, hanging down his heao, and bliming. 

* LttUe hypocrite ! ' ejaculated Maria. 

* It 'a nnr belief, he wants to put his other eye out,' 
obserrad Adolphus. 

'Jf<^ I go, please, uncle?' reiterated the boy 
appeaNagly, and without taking any notice of these 
aspenious. 

' Please to let him ^o,' pleaded Maggie, taking the 
merchaat's not unwillmg hand in hers. 



' I must be at my office this afternoon,' ejaculated 
thatsentleman wi^ decision. 

' Ete shall go by himself, to-morrow, by the very 
first train,' urged Margaret 

' I can't trast him,' thundered Uncle Ingram ; 'it's 
the mail-train, and he will rob the post-bags. At all 
events, he would not come to work, I 'm sure.' 

' Adolphus can stay behind, and go with him, unde.' 

' Yeiy well, then, so let it be. But mind, young sir, 
you do not get another holiday for six months to 
come.' 

Mrs Arbour was glad enough that matters had 
turned out no worse. for Master Richard, but yet 
could hardly sp&re him out of her sight even to pay 
this p^iuseworthy visit to his injured school-fellow. 
He found Mr William Dempsey at his father's house, v 
and in a darkened chamber, in a frame of mind very 
different from that for which he had been hiUierto 
distinguished. The lad had come prepared for 
reproach and upbraidiii^, not for the qmet nush of a 
sidL-room, and the forgiveness of one who felt himself 
stricken for his evil deserts. A terrible misfortune 
was overhanging and likely to fall upon the poor 
young man ; uie sight of his other eye was threatened, 
nor <ud the doctors give much hope that total blind- 
ness could be averted. 

Richard received this news with a burst of tears. 

'I shall never bully anybody any more,' said 
Dempsey, smiling fainuy, and feeling about for his 
enemy's hand. 

'Don't take it, Dempsey/ cried the other in an 
agony ; * I wish from my heart that it had been cut 
off long ago ! But you don't, you can't believe I did it 
on purpose. Pray, pray say &at.' 

* X on never meant to do me any such harm as this,' 
answered the poor fellow — ' of that I am quite certain, 
Dick.' 

' No, nor any harm, upon my soul. I did not throw 
at you^ Dempeey. I told my mother so at church, 
yesterday, and I wouldn't tell her a lie there, I 
wouldn't, indeed. I put the stone in because your 
side were doing it.' 

' It wasn't a stone,' replied the sufferer peevishly ; 
'although it doesn't matter now what it was. All 
the school knows it was a piece of bottle-glass ; the 
snow-ball in which it was, was picked up close beside 

me with my blood upon it I saw them Ah me,' 

broke forth the unhappy youth, ' I shall see nothing 
more ; I shall have to feel my way about for ever. I ^ 
have laughed at blind men often and often, and it 's 
come to my turn now. Don't cry for me. Arbour ; I 
deserve it That 's Dr Neversleep's voice in the front 
hall; I wonder whether he will do me any good. 
Why don't you speak. Arbour ? You should always 
spe£UL to a fellow that can't see.' 

' O Dempsey, Demnsey,' cried the boy, in a voice 
so altered, that the otner called from the bed to know 
whether it was he indeed ; * listen to me just one 
moment ; I have something to say you, Dempeey, 
worse than all that has happeaied yet ! Promise me 
that you will never tell, for it can do nobodv ^ood 
now, but only harm ; and yet I must set myseu right 
with you and Maggie.' He came close beside the 

fillow, and whispered : * It was not me at all, Willy, 
threw a stone, I know ; but Johnnie — ^my brother, 
you know, my own brother — he threw the broken 
glass : I saw him making up the snow-ball with that 
inside ! ' 

'The sneaking villain!' ejaculated the sick lad 
angrily. 

' Hush, hush, Willy ; say nothing about it ; but only 
now you know it wasn't me. I couldn't hdp telling 
you that, you looked so ill and changed.' 

Dick stood upon tiptoe tenderly, and kissed the poor 
lad's forehead above the bandage that was round his 
eyes. ' I am going away to London, and shall not be 
able to come and see you again for months.' 



46 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



* Johimie has narer been to ask after me, Dick,' 
groaned the other bitterly ; * all the achool have been 
except that * 

*Huah!' cried Richard; *here is Dr Ncvereleep; 
htish, for Heaven's sake ( ' 

The doctor looked at his quondam favoozite with 
a very seyere face: 'I am slad to see you here, 
Richard; although it is the least that you can do 
after what has happened ' 

* Don't say thaiC doctor,' interrupted the patient, 
with a touch, of his old arbitrary manner ; * I won't 
have* Dick abused. God bless you, Dick, and forgive 
me all I 've done to you.' 

Richard Arbour ran home throu^ the snow with 
venr different feelings from those with which he had 
amved some fifteen minutes before. ' I used to think 
Dempsey was all bad, poor fellow,' thought he ; ' and 
though our Rachel always said that Johnnie was all 
for himself, and a regular Number Wunner, I never 

dreamed of his being such a ' and Dick shook his 

ourly head again and again, for want of a term of 
sufficient reprobation. 



AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF DR ALEXANDER 

CARLYLE. 

It has long been known that a memoir concerning the 
SoottiiBh literati of last century existed in manusoript 
in the possession of Principal Lee of the Edinbui^ 
University, beinc the composition of the Rev. Dr 
Alexander Carme, minister of Inveresk, who is 
alluded to in Humphry Clinker as the companion of 
that brilliant set of men, and as ' wanting nothing 
but inclination to figure with the rest on paper.' The 
very reverend principal, as last surviving trustee of 
Canyle, entertamed scruples about giving his manu- 
script to the world, as containing many remarks 
calculated to give offence to individuals; but since 
his death in m&y 1859, his representatives, consider- 
ing tiiat the work generally refers to men of a century 
aso, have v^ry reasonably judged themselves it 
liberty to lay it before the public It now appears in 
a handsome octavo,* under the editorship of Mr John 
H. Burton. 

The book is a highly entertaining one ; not merely 
because it in great part relates to interesting and 
lemarkable men, but because of the freedom and 
breadth, so to speak, of the style in which the author 
paints lus associates. Possessed of a tall and hand- 
some person, with an aspect often likened to the 
Jupiter Tonans, the minister of Inveresk was a man 
of vigorous general talents, a shrewd observer and 
student of human nature, and a oonversationaliBt 
and diner-out of the first grade. The parish to 
which he acceded in 1748, and which he held for 
fifty^even years, being within six miles of Edinburgh, 
he was enabled to mingle freely in the society 
of the city. To the same cause it might in part 
be attributed that he was able to exercise a ls£ge 
share of influence in the Scottish church. The 
establishment had at that time culminated in what 
was called moderatism, and Carlyle was the most 
moderate of the moderate. To one, who marks the 
opposite strain of the present time, it sounds strange 
that he frequently speaks of having dinner-company 
on Sund^, and of arranging the most important 
church affairs in taverns. jSis latitudinarianism was 
strongly marked in 1757, when he braved the censure 
of his presbytery by taking a leading part in Hie 
preparation of the tragedy of Douglas for the Eidin- 
Durgh stage, and attending in a box on the third 
night. Nor did he fail, in we very next year, to take 
a nm of the best theatrical performances in London. 
There was, of course, a party of stricter views; but 
he takes care to make us aware that these were not 

* BlMkirood sad Som, Edinterg h and LoDdon, 



wholly of an ascetic character. Dr Alexander Webstei; 
who headed his opponents, and tried to get loBi ooi^ 
demned for attendmff a play, was a fioe-boUie iiiaR» 
aocustomed to spend hiuf the ni^^ in oo n v i vi a l 
company. Of him is the anecdote tdd that^ as ks 
was reeling homeward in the dawn ol a summer 
morning a friend asked what his oon^gatioii would 
think n "Uiey saw him thus ; to which he replied : 
* They would not believe their own eyes.' 

By accident, we suppose, Carlyle was faroughi in 
contact in early life with several men who united 
great licence in some departments of self-indulgence 
with the most serious professions. A remazKaUe 
example was the judge, tfames Etskine, Lord Orange, 
whose house was in the parish of Prestonpma, fli 
which Oarlyle's father was minister. We leun that 
Grange and the minister used to have meetingB aft 
which profound theological questions and mnoli 
claret were discussed. His loraship had a detached 
library in his ^^;arden, where pleasures more material 
than those of hterature were enjoyed. Sometinies he 
was lost to the world for months at a time, and it 
was the belief of the minister that he was then going 
through a course of reckless debauchery in Edinbnz]^ 
The common report was, says Carlyle, *• that he and 
his associates passed their time in alternate sceiMe of 
the exerciMB of religion and debauchery, spending tba 
day in meetings for prayer and pious oonvenatioB, 
and their nights in lewdness and revellins.' Then 
our autobiographer adds a profound remark : ' Sobm 
men are of opinion that they could not be equally 
sincere in both. I am apt to think that they wen^ 
for human nature is capable of wonderful freaki* 
There is no doubt of their profligacy ; and I have 
frequently seen them drowned in tean, during tba 
whole of a sacramental Sunday, when, so far as raw 
observation could reach, th^ could have no rational 
object in acting a part. The Marquis of Lothian of 
that day, whom I have seen attending the saorameBt 
at Prestonpans with Lord Grange, and whom no man 
suspected of plots or hypocrisy, was much addicted te 
debauchery. The natimd casuistry of the pnasinni 
grants dispensations with more facility than the 
church of Kome.' 

The famous Lord Lovat, who was really ti hypocrite, 
but not one of a religious complexion, came to Preston- ! 
pans in 1741 to plaSs a son under the preceptorship of I 
the parish schoolmaster, named Halket ; and Garble, 
then nineteen, was invited to join his lordidiip^ 
party at a dinner in Lucky Yint's, a celebrated taven 
m the west end of the town. He gives us a Dutch 
sketch of the entertainment. The coxnpan^ con- 
sisted, besides Lovat himself, of Mr Ersldne of 
Grange, with three or four gentlemen of the name of 
Eraser, one of whom was his man of business, togetiier 
with Halket, his son Alexander, and young Cazlyle. 
The two old gentlemen * disputed for some time 
which of them should say grace. At last Lovat 
gelded, and gave us two or three pious sentenoee 
m French, wnich Mr Erskine and I understood, 
and we only. As soon as we were set, Lovat asked 
me to send him a idiiting from the dish of fldi 
that was next me. As they were all haddocks, I 
answered that they were not whitings, but, acooniing 
to the proverb, he that got a haddock for a whiting 
was not ill off, This saying takes its rise frooi the 
superiority of haddocks to whitings in the f^rth of 
Forth, upon this, his lordship stormed and swoare 
more than fifty draooons : he was sure they must be 
whitings, as he had bespoke them. Halket tipped 
me the wink, and I retracted, saying that I had out 
little skill, and as his lordship had bespoke them, I 
must certainly be mistaken. Upon this he calmed, 
and I sent him one, which he was quite pleased with, 
swearing again that he never could eat a haddodc all 
his life. The landlady told me afterwards, that as he 
had been very peremptory against haddocks, and she 
had no other, she had made her cook carefully scrape 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



47 



I 



out St Peier*B mark on the thooldera, which she had 
offeA done before witii sucoess. We had a Teiy good 
jdam dinner. As the claret was excellent, and dr- 
onlated fast, the two old gentlemen grew very merry, 
aiuL tiieir eonTersatkm became youthful and gay. 
What I observed was, that Orange, without appearing 
to flatter, was tbt^ observant of Lovat, and did every- 
thing to please him. He had provided Geordy Sym, 
who was Lord Dnmmiore's piper, to entertain Lovat 
alter dinner; but though lie was reckoned the best 
piper in the comitry, Lovat deejnsed him, and said he 
was only fit to play reels to Grange's oyster-women. 
He grew frisky at last, however, and upon Kate Vint, 
the landlady's dau^ter, coming into the room, he 
inmsted on her staymg to danoe with him. She was 
a handscmie girl, with fine Uack eyes and an agree- 
able person. .... Lovat was st this time seventy- 
five, and Grange not much yomicer; yet the wine 
and the yomig woman emboldened tiiem to dance a 
reel, till £ate, observing Lovaf s legs as thick as 
posts, fell a-lauffhing, and ran ofL She missed her 
second coarse of kines, as was then the fashion of 
the country, though she had endured the first This 
was a scene not easily forgotten.' It was, however, 
not quite done yet. llovat ' conveyed his son to the 
house where he was to be boarded, for Halket had 
not taken up house ; and there, wlule we drank tea, 
he won the heart of the landlady, a decent widow of 
a shipmaster, and of her niece, by fair speeches, inter- 
mixed with kisses to the nieoe, who was about thirty, 
and such advices as a man in a state of ebriety 
could give. The coach was in waiting, but Gran^ 
would not vet part with him, and insisted on his 
accepting of a mmquet from liim at his house in 
Prraton. Lovat was in a yielding humour, and it 
was agreed ta The Erasers, wli^ were on horse- 
back, were sent to Edinburgh; the boy was left 
with his dame; and Lovat and Grange, and Halket 
and I, went up to Preston, only a quarter of a mile 
distant, and were received in Grange s library, a cube 
of twenty feet, in a pavilion of the house which 
extended into a small wilderness of not more than 
half an acre, which was sacred to Grange's private 
waJks, and tp which there was no entry uat through 
the pavilion. .... In this room there was a fine 
collection of fruit and biscuits, and a new deluge of 
excellent claiet. At ten o'clock, the two old gentlemen 
moun'tod their coach to Edinburgh, and thus closed 
a very memorable day.' 

Garlyle witnessed much of the series of transactions 
known as the Porteous Riot, and took part as a loyal 
volunteer in the i^air of the Forty-five, He gives us 
animated detailed accounts of these transactions ; but 
we have no room to so into them. There is more 
interest for the ^enenu reader in what he tells us of 
the history of his friend John Home's tragedy of 
Douglas, The author of this famous play was a minis- 
ter m a neighbouring presbytery, and an intimate 
friend of Canyle, who assisted in revising the manu- 
script. When all was ready, Home resolv^ tojproceed 
to London, and lay the tragedy before Mr (rarrick. 
Six or seven friendly Merse ministers, besides Carlyle, 
resolved to give the poet a convoy part of his way. 
It was on a snovnr morning, in February 1755, that 
the i>arty set out uom Polwarth manse, where half of 
them had spent the night 

' Before we had gone far, we discovered that our 
bard had no mode of carrying his precious treasure, 
which we thou^t enough of, out hiuxlly foresaw that 
it was to be pronounced aperfect tragedv by the best 
judges ; for when David Hume save it tnat praise, he 
sp<£e only the sentiment of the whole republic of 
belles-lettres. The tragedy in one pocket of his great- 
coat, and his clean shirt and ni^t-cap in the other, 
though they balanced each other, was thought an 
misue mode of conveyance ; and our Mend — who, like 
most of his brother-poets, was unapt to foresee diffi- 
culties and provide against them — ^had neglected to 



buy a pair of leather bacs as he passed through 
Haddington. We bethought us that possibly James 
Landreth, minister of Simprin, and clerk of the synod, 
would be provided with such a convenience for the 
carriage of nis synod records ; and having no wife, no 
aira ctf no, to resist our request, we unanimously turned 
aside half a mile to call at James's ; and, concealing 
our intention at first, we easily persuaded tiie honest 
man to join us in this convoy to his friend Mr Home, 
and then observing the danger the manuscript misht 
run in a greatcoat-pocket on a journey of 400 miles, 
we inquijred if he could lend Mr Home his vaUse dhly 
as far as Woder, where he would purchase a new pair 
for himself. This he very cheerndly granted. But 
while his pony was preparing, he had another trial to 
go through ; for Gupplee, who never had any money, 
wough he was a bachelor too, and had twice the 
stipend of Landreth, took the latter into another room, 
where the conference lasted longer tlum we wished 
for, so that we had to bawl otS for them to come 
away. We afterwards understood that Oupples, hav- 
ing only four shillings, was pressing Landretn to lend 
him haJf-a-guinea, that he might be able to defray the 
expense of the journey. Honest James, who knew 
that John Home, if he did not return lus own valise, 
which was very improbable, would provide him in a 
better pair, had frankly agreed to the first request ; 
but as ne knew Cupples never paid anything, he was 
very reluctant to part with his half -guinea. However, 
having at last agreed, we set out, and I think gallant 
troops, but so-and-so accoutred, to make an inroad on 
the English border. By good-luck, the river Tweed 
was not come down [in fiood], and we crossed it 
safely at the ford near Norham Castle ; and, as the 
day mended, we got to Woolerhaughhead by four 
o'clock, where we got but an indiflerent dinner, for it 
was but a nuseraole house in those days ; but a 
happier or more jocose and m6rry company could 
hardly be assembled. 

'John Home and I, "who slept in one room, or 
perhaps in one bed, as was usual in those days, were 
distun>ed by a noise in the night, which being in the 
next room, where Laurie and Monteith were, we 
f oxmd they had quarrelled and fought, and the former 
had puaheid the latter out of bed. After having acted 
as mediators in this quarrel, we had sound sleep till 
morning. Having breakfasted as well as the house 
could ainord, Cupples and I, who had agreed to go two 
days' journey further with Mr Home, set off south- 
wuds with nim, and the rest returned by the way 
they had come to Berwickshire again. 

* Cupples and I attended Home as far as Fenyhill, 
about SIX miles, where, after remaining all ni^t with 
him, we parted next morning, he for London, and we 
on our return home. Poor Home had no better 
success on this occasion than before, with still greater 
mortification ; for Garrick, after reading the pla7» 
returned it with an opinion that it was totally unfit 
for the stage. .On this occasion, Home wrote a pathetic 
cop y of verses, addressed to Shakspeare's image in 
Westminster Abbey. 

* Cupples and I had a diverting journey back ; for 
as his money had failed, and I had not an oveiriSow, we 
were obliged to feed our horses in Newcastle without 
dining ; . . . . but in those days nothing came wrong 
to us — youth and good spirits made us convert ^ 
maladventures into fun. The Virgin's Inn, as it was 
called, being at that time the best, and on the south 
side of the bridge, made us forget all our disasters.' 

Home, as is well known, gave up his chai^ as a 
minister, in order to escape ecclesiastical censure for 
writing a play ; and the Earl of Bute then took him 
up, as nis confidant and friend. We learn with some 
surprise that the poet, thus secularised, was engaged as 
second in several affairs of honour, which did not quite 
ripen into hostile meetings. Very shocking, no doubt ; 
but who could be severe with a man essentially so 
innocent and amiable as John Home, and one of whom 



48 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



Carlyle delights to tell that, by his influence with his 
patron, he advanced the interests of scores of friends, 
Dut never asked anything for hbnsdf. Our author, 
visitinff London in 1758 for the marriage of a sister, 
fonnohis friend Home in terms of intimacy with 
Garrick, notwithstanding the rejection of Douglas, 
This led to an invitation from the great manager to 
Carlyle, and others of Home's Scotch friends, to an 
entertainment at his villa near Hampton. Somehow, 
Garrick had become aware of Carivle's proficiency 
in ihe Scotch game of solf (which doubtless he had 
acquired on Musselburgn Links), so ' he told us to 
bring golf clubs and baBs, that we mi^ht play at that 
game on Molesly Hurst. We accordmcly set out in 
good time, six of us in a landau. As we passed 
throueh Kensington, the Coldstream regiment were 
changmg guard, and, on seeing our clubs, they gave 
us three cneers in honour of a diversion peculiar to 
Scotland; so much does the remembrance of one's 
native country dilate the heart, when one has been 
some time absent. The same sentiment made us open 
our purses, and ^ve our countirmcn wherewithal to 
drink the "^ Land o' Cakes." Garrick met us by the 
way, so impatient he seemed to be for his company. 
There were John Home, and Robertson, and Wedder- 
bum, and Robert and James Adam, and Colonel David 
Wedderbum, who was killed when commander of the 
army in Bombay, in the year [1773]. 

* Immediately after we arrived, we crossed the river 
to the golfing-ground, which was veiy good. None of 
the company could play but John Home and mjrself, 
and Parson Black from Aberdeen, who, being chaplain 
to a regiment during some of the Duke of Cumber- 
land's campaigns, hiM. been pointed out to his royal 
highness as a proper person to teach him the game of 
chess : the duke was such an apt scholar that he never 
lost a eame after the first day ; and he recompensed 
Black for having beat him so cruelly, by procurmg for 
him the living (n Hiunpton, which is a good one. We 
returned and dined sumptuously ; Mrs Garrick, the 
only lady, now grown fat, though still very lively, 
being a woman of uncommon good sense, and now 
mistress of English, was in all respects most agreeable 
company. .... 

* Garrick had built a handsome temple, with a 
statue of Shakspeare in it, in his lower garden, on the 
banks of the Thames, which was separated from the 
upper one by a high-road, under which there was an 
archway which united the two gardens. Garrick, 
in compliment to Home, had ordered the wine to be 
carried to this temple, where we were to drink it under 
the shade of the copy of that statue to which Home 
had addressed his pathetic verses on the rejection of 
his play. The poet and the actor were e<|ually ^ay, 
and well pleased with each other, on this occasion, 
with mucn respect on the one hand, and a total 
oblivion of animosity on the other; for vaniiy is a 
passion that is easy to be entreated, and unites freely 
with all the best a^ections. Having observed a ^recn 
mount in the garden, opposite the archway, I said to 
our landlord, that while the servants were preparing 
the collation in the temple, I would surprise him with 
a stroke at the golf, as I should drive a ball through 
his archway into the Thames once in three strokes. 
I had measured the distance with my eye in walking 
about the garden, and accordingly, at the second 
stroke, made the ball alight in the mouth of the gate- 
way, and roll down the green slope into the nvcr. 
This was so dexterous that he was quite surprised, 
and begged the club of me by which such a feat had 
been performed. We passed a very agreeable after- 
noon ; and it is hard to say which were happier, the 
landlord and landlady, or the guests.' 

The book contains snatches of poignant remark and 
shrewd observations of character, sufficient to justify 
the esteem in which the author's society was held — as 
where he speaks of George Bell, provost and political 
leader of Dumfries, * who was governed by his wife, 



who was swayed by her niece and Frank Paton, sur- 
veyor of customs, who was a very able man, and who, 
with my sister, were the secret spring of all the pto- 
vosfs conduct;' or describes his assistant, Andersao, 
'reckoned an excellent preacher by the commoii 
people, because he got his sermon faithfully by heart 
(his father's, I suppose), and delivered it with a loud- 
ness and impetuosity surpassing any^ school-boy, with- 
out making a halt or stop from beginning to end ; ' or, 
better stil^ sets forth Sir Geoi^e Suttie, as * thou^t 
to be a great patriot, because he wore a coarse c»at 
and unpowdere^l hair, while he was looking for a port 
with the utmost anxiety,' and as * reckoned a man of 
sense because he said so himself, and had such an 
embarrassed stuttering elocution that one "was not 
sure but it was true.' We in like maimer obtain frtm 
the book some insight into the pleasantries w^hich 
irradiated the intellectual society of Edinbiirgh in 
those days — as where the author introduces us to Mr 
Robert Cullen, advocate, celebrated for his powers of 
personation. 

* One day,' says he, *■ in the General Assembhr of 
1765, a student of physic was seized with a convaJnon 
fit, which occasioned much commotion in the home, 
and drew a score of other English students around 
him. When the Assembly adjourned, about a dosen 
of us went to dine in the Poker club-room, at Nichol- 
son's, when Dr Robertson came and told us he must 
dine with the Commissioner, but would join us sood. 
Immediately after we dined, somebody wished to hear 
from Cullen what Robertson would say about the 
incident that had taken place, which he did imme- 
diately, lest the Principal should come in. He had 
hardly finished when he arrived. After the comjianv 
had drank his health, Jardine said slyly, ** Principai, 
was it not a strange accident that happened to-day in 
the Assembly ? " Robertson's answer was exactly in 
tibe strain, and almost in the very words, of Culkn. 
This raised a very loud laugh in the company, when 
the doctor, more ruffled than I ever almost saw him, 
said, with a severe look at CuUen, " I perceive some- 
body has been ploughing with my heifer before I 
came in." 

Considering that it records the life of a Scotch 
clergyman, l£ere is in this book a surprising amount 
of space occupied with convivial dinners, and pleasant 
jaunts, and droU anecdotes — giving altogether the idea 
that life in that rank in the &ist century was far from 
being dull, or even tame. Dr Carlyle entertained and 
acted upon a theory that an open, moderate enjoyment 
of the ordinary pleasures of society was a safeguard 
against hypocrisy and fanaticism, and their many 
attendant evils. And this view he was enabled to cany 
out, because the church then depended little on the 
common people, and enjoyed much of the countenance 
of the gentlefolks. We have changed all that now. 

WINTBR-TIME. 

Though Winter reigns, Beauty still holds her throne ; 
She moolds the snow-flake to its lovely form, 
And the fev crinkled leaves that mock the storm, 
And laugh and chatter while the sad winds moan. 
Beauty hath stained with mingled gold and brown. 
The patches of bright sky between the i^owers, 
The Robin's breast, and moss-floors of lone bowers, 
For naked trees and funeral-clouds atone. 
Beauty dies not, she walks through Forest dim 
With feathery feet, when the strange cuckoo-note 
Like a friend's voice on the calm air doth float. 
And lisping zephyrs chant Spring's advent-hymn ; 
With the swarth Summer and brown Autumn dwells ; 
And marries Winter in the ice-flower dolls. J. E. 



Printed and Published by W. & R Chaubebs, 47 Pater- 
noster Row, London, and 339 High Street, Edinburgh. 
Also sold by William Kobebtson, 23 Upper Sackville 
Street, DUBLIN, and all Booksellers. 



Siicnct 3nb ^its. 

COMDCCTCD BT WILLIAU AMD ROBERT CHAHBZBS. 



SATURDAY, JANUARY 26, 1861. 



Price I^. 



A CITY ELEVATED. 
The vast apacp of the United StAtcs of America, and 
the prodigious humim force provoked eveiywbere into 
excrcine by the almost indefinite cnpaljilities o! the 
country, have caused many things which are here 
icen on a sraoU scale, to wniuiie, in that port of tlie 
TTorld, gigantic proportiona. Another consequence 
is, on Hudafity in gnppting with physical <Ii£culti«a 
such ■« the generality of British engineen would 
ihiiDk from, cren if supplied with ample funda, 
to be used at diseretion. An Ameiican is so 
mnch tccustoined to see wonderful things accom- 
pliihed, that he becomes prepared ingtantancoualy tn 
HDttT Upon and eacoorago prDJect« which we should 
feel to be a hundred years ahead of our pre»ent 
powers. 

There is a city in the west which even Americana 
will flometuues advert to oa aomething of a wonder ; 
and that ia Chic^o, on LaLe Michigan. You enter, 
by a capital railuay, on agglomeration oE itrectH and 
tquoreK, which appears not much less in extent than 
the city of Dublin, and you are told Chat it has all 
come into existence since the British Reform Act was 
paned. It is no rode collection of wigwams or log- 
housea, bot a city of lofty and elegant atruoturea, with 
churchca, state-house, and all other siutable public 
buildings. Long terraces of liandsome mansions, 
looking out upon the lake, attest the presence of a 
wealthy and luxurious class of inhabitants. Well, 
there was nothing of the kind there in 1S30. When 
the hiatoiy of the spot is traced Sfteen ur eighteen 
years further back, yon Hnd that it then boasted of 
nothing but a trading-atation with a small fort The 
writer woa introduce)! to a middle-aged citizen, and 
learned that bis wife has written an interesting book* 
on the romantic perils which she underwent in her 
girlhood, as daughter of the sole merdiant here traffick- 
ing with the Indiana. More marvellnns still, there is 
now a university far to the VKgt of ThicBgo — one 
graced by many accompliohed ]>rofessora~among the 
rest, by Dr D. B. Bcid, long known in this country oa 
a tcacber of ohemisby, and as the superintendent of 
the operatiooa for regulating the temperature of the 
HmiBes of Parliament 

This dty hod grown up to be the dweUing-plact 
hundred thousand inhabitants, before the people hod 
well become aware of a radical fault in its construc- 
tion—namely, that it had been built Upon thu surface 
a! a plain so little elevated alxive the lake, tliat there 
was no proper outf.iU for drainage. InconrenieDcea 



wcro PTporienceii, and groaned over mildly, as usually 
happens when inconveniences appear irremediable ; 
but they were inconveniences, nay, dangers to health 
and life, for all that ; and when at last some one swd 
they might be remedied, the sense of their importance 
was fn>ely expressed. To cut short a long tale — the 
municipality gave ear to a scheme for elevating the 
city through vertical apace t« the extent of from four 
to ten feet, aecordin;; ta the needs of voriooa districts, 
by which it waa shewn that good drainage might be 
secured. Here he iroold be a bold engineer indeed 
who shonld bethink liim of such a process as possible ; 
but it does not appear that the man who proposed to 
hoist up Chicago wal looked upon there as anything 
extraordinary. The irriter, when at Chicago in October 
ISaO, could gather little more than that he was a 
person of the name of Brown. The bnainess was 
quickly set about, fnr the Americana do not, like i 
consider and talk of in one century what thi 
descendants are to accompliah in the next. Once 
satisfied that it was the right thing to do, they — 
to nae one of their favourite phrases — went ahead, 
and did it. 

I should rather say, they began to do it: they 
began, and are now going on with it ; for aa Roma 
was not built, so neither could Chicago be hoisted up, 
all in one day. The stranger visiting Chicago at 
present, linds himself moving along streets of different 
levels ; sometimes his to ascend, sometimes descend, 
a trap-ladder of a few steps which strangely inter- 
rupta the pavement Nor may it be for a year or 
two to come that oil will be adjusted according to 
the plan. 

But the process ! —how is a heavy building (a good- 
sized house nill he as much as four thousand tons 
in weight) to be lifted ! how, if there be means of 
merely liftins;, is the rise to be kept so equable, that 
the walls will not rend and crack— in short, go more 
or less to ruin ! Stnnge to say, the lifting is not only 
done with ease, but it is done so equably that no 
such thing as a crack results, nor even so much 
OS a iliike of plaster falla from the walls. And it ii 
not merely a single house which ia so dealt with, but 
whole blocks of bouKs, masses like a side of Belgrave 
Square, or a section of Regent Street, the fact being 
that individual bouses are in general so connected 
with others, that it is seldom or never they can h 
elevated singly. 

To give some idea of the ' house-raising business,' as 
a local journal atyles it, let oa note o tew particular 
of what was done with a block of buildings so lately 
as April 1S60. Be it premised, this block extended to 
320 feet in Utigth. with a breadth of from 140 to 91^ 
and on areragc height of 70 feet It included a lar{^ 



50 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



bank, and eight other massive stmctures, the basement 
story of which was divided into thirteen shops. The 
entire weight was estimated at 35,000 tons. Three 
firms contracted for the work at 18,000 dollars, or 
about L.3500, engaging that for any damage that 
might arise, they alone would be responsible. It was 
also arranged — and this is perhaps the most surpris- 
ing feature of the undertaking — that there should 
be no interruption to the business of the various 
concerns accommodated in the building. 

The first step is to scarify away all the ground, or 
fabric of any kind around the base of the building, 
supplying, however, jirovisional galleries and gang- 
ways for the use of the public during the process of 
elevation. Then the earth is dug out from under a 
portion of the foundations, and strong beams inserted, 
supported by rows of jack-screws set together as 
' closely as possible. When this is properly arranged, 
another piece of the foundations is removed in like 
manner, and so on till beams with jack-screws are 
under every wall of the mass of building. In the case 
of the block in question, there were in all 6000 screws 
employed. 

The next step is to arrange for pfiitting the screws 
into action. To every ten a man is assigned, furnished 
with a crow-bar. At the signal of a whistle, he turns 
a screw one-fourth round, goes on to another, which 
he turns in like manner, and so on till all are turned. 
The screw having a thread of three-eighths of an 
inch, the building has thus been raised a fourth part of 
that space throughout, or exactly 3-32d of an inch. The 
whistle again soimds : each crow-bar is again applied 
to its series of ten screws, and a similar amount of 
vertical movement for the whole building is accom- 
plished. And this operation is repeated till the whole 
required elevation is accomplished. I have a large 
lithographed print before me, in which we see the 
block in question, with its base laid bare, so as to 
shew the range of workmen operating upon the 
screws, while the shops above are all in full business, 
and the carriage-way displays its ordinary crowd of 
coaches, wagons, and foot-passengers, as if there wore 
nothing particular going on. When the desired 
elevation is attained, the beams are one by one 
replaced with a substructure of masonry, and the 
pavement is restored on the new leveL In this case, 
the elevation of four feet eight inches was accomplished 
in five days, and it is stated that the cost of new 
foundations and pavement was from forty to fifty 
thousand dollars. The block, which was full of 
inhabitants, contained much plate-glass, elegantly 
painted walls, and many delicate things ; but not a 
yane was broken, a particle of plaster or paint dis- 
placed, nor a piece of furniture injured. The writer 
deems it not superfluous to say, that he saw and partly 
inspected this mass of building, and certainly found 
nothing that could have led him to surmise that it 
had originally rested on a plane nearly five feet below 
its present leveL 

Let us English people i>onder on these heroic under- 
takings of our American coiisins. They are well 
worthy of imitation. It is the misfortune of many 
of our cities that large portions of them are built 
on ground so little above the level of an adjacent 
river as to be but imperfectlv drainable. Southwark 
is a notable example, and Belmvia, with finer build- 
ings, is no better off in this important respect. 
Sanitary considerations point out how desirable in 
these cases it is that the buildings should be raised a 



few feet Chicago, a town of yesterday, scarcelT yet 
to be heard of in geographical gazetteers, baa shewn 
that it can be done, and, comparatively speaJking, at 
no great expense. 



THE FAMILY SCAPEGRACE. 

CHAPTBB Til.— DAEKIKDIM STBBIT. 

Early next morning, Richard Arbour had taken 
leave of his dear mother and of Sister Maggie — 
to whom alone he confided the secret of his innocence 
in the snow-ball matter — and was upon his road 
with his big broker to the railway station, to whi^ 
the cart containmg his small supply of luggage had 
already been despatched. He looked back more thaa 
once, upon his way, on the little home wherein he had 
passed his happy child-life with regretful eyes, and 
the bUnd of that chamber- window over the dining- 
room was always held aside by an unseen hand, and 
two unseen faces were, he well knew, being pressed 
there a^nst the frosty pane. Ho would be a good 
boy, and obey his uncle, for their sake, thought he; 
and waved his cap as he entered the clump of trees 
that shut the cottage finally from view. ^ 

*Now, then, what are you stopping for?' growled 
Adolphus. * None of your cunning tricks with me, my 
man ; you may keep them for the women-folks, I & 
assure you. You aon't suppose / 'm going to nund 
about such a chap as you. Besides, / ain^ going to 
part with you just yet, youne shaver, so my feehnfli 
are not so overcome. You '11 be in my department n 
the office, mind you, and you'd better oe precioiii 
careful what you're about. Come, sir, you've got 
"Runaway" written on your face, I see, so we'll 
just walk hand in hand, if you please.' 

Mr Adolphus Arbour^s views upon what fraternal 
behaviour shoidd be, were, as wc have seen, somewhat 
peculiar, and his idea of what walking hand in hand 
miplies was not less orimnaL It consisted in clutch- 
ing hold of the cufif of Dick's greatcoat, and dragging 
him thereby along with him, as a folio-poUoemsn 
drags a duodecimo-pickpocket. In another moment* 
the greatcoat was traihng in the snow, and its pro- 
prietor, having withdrawn from it as in a pantooume 
trick — having sloughed it as a seri>ent ia a hurry might 
slough his skin — ^was already some twenty yards on 
his road home again. Equipped only in the short 
school-boy jacket, so excellently adapted for pedes- 
trian exercise, as the boy was, Adolphus could never 
have caught him, and he knew it. 

' Hi ! ' roared he, *■ you stop ! Do you hear me, yoo 
younc scoundrel ? You stop ! ' 

Dick did hear him, and stopped accordingly, upon a 
heap of flints, intended for tne repairing of the road, 
from which having selected those best adapted for his 
pur]K)se, he commenced a ParthLan war, now retreat- 
mg from, now advancing upon, the enemy, and now, 
Deucalion-like, casting ms weapons behind him, at a 
venture, as he flew. Adolphus, m deadly fear of these 
missiles — the fate of Mr William Dempsey occuiring 
to him with peculiar force under the circumstances — 
was constrained to hold the greatcoat shield-like 
before his face, which of course prevented hun from 
making anything save a blind charge upon his assail- 
ant, and compelled him to remain, upon the whole, in 
a condition of inglorious inaction. 

' I will not take hold of you any more, Dick,' parieyed 
the besieged party from behind his curtain or ramparl 

' I know that ; thank you for nothing,' returned the 
enemy, dexterously smiting the kneecap of the foe 
with a flint. 

* I won't hurt you, I won't bully you, I'U be good to 
you,' roared the limping Adolphus. 

'I muH throw tnese three more stones,' rej^ied 
Dick, * and then we'll have pax.^ 

The which, accordingly, this master of the situation 
actually did, and one of them with effect ; and theii 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



61 



ttte two forces condnded an anniiticei and reached the 
railway station only just in time. Adol])ha8 took 
adrantaee of the hnrry to famish Dick with a half- 
price ticket instead of a whole one, pocketing the 
surplus fare with which his unde had intrusted him, 
and laying the burden of the imposture upon Richard 
himself, who was more than thirteen years of age, and 
looked fifteen. The latter never dreamed but that 
this was done by his imcle's orders, and recdved the 
reproofs and expostulations of the tidcet-yiewers all 
the way to London with a magnanimity which is only 
borne of a sense of duty. His thoughtB were mainly 
fixed upon that metropolis, so wondrous and vagody 
promismg to the soul of youth, from the days of 
another Dick — who was the scapegrace of his family 
also— even until now, and on the new manner of me 
upon which he was about to enter. His ideas of the 
mercantile profession — de8i[)ite his residence at Messrs 
Dot and Carriwun's — ^were principally derived from the 
information affcmded b^ the Artzlnan Ntghii Enter- 
iainmerUSy which led hnn to believe that sales were 
effected by means of purses of gold coin, and that the 
diief article of conunerce consisted of predous stones — 
some of which perhaps, being rubbed smartly, mi^t 
produce attendant ceniL He made a pretty good guess, 
nowever, in concluoing that his future Old Man of the 
Sea would be no other than the individual now oppo- 
site to him, over whose countenance, whenever he had 
occanon to rub his kneecap— whicii was rather fre- 
^|iiflntly — there passed a decidedly malevolent expres- 
■ioD. As to Undo Ingram, there had certainly been 
nothing about him identical with those splendid per- 
flonaces who were wont to purchase a thousand bales 
of suk at Balsora, or to furnish Haronn Al Raschid 
vriih those young ladies of surpassing beauty, so full 
of reminiscences of the king tneir father, and their 
august mode of life at home. But then Dick fdt that 
TJnde Ingram in the country mi^t be a very different 
man from Unde Ingram among his wares — for business 
znatters were never referred to at the cottage except 
in such tones as befitted their sacred and mysterious 
character — and he did not altogether despair of finding 
that relative sitting cross-legged under a dome of great 
magnificence, and selling £ainonds in sacks by dry 



As a matter of fiust, however, Mr Ingram Arbour 
was a china and earthenware dealer, and sold dinner- 
services, jugs, basins, and so on, by the ton, in Dark- 
endim Stoeet, City. He was a sort of commercial 
Pandarus, a go-between 'twixt the manufacturers and 
retail dealers; and, if he had not been a Londoner, 
WDuld perhaps have been called a Manchester ware- 
houseman. The Darkendim Street establishment, 
although of vast extent, was very ill lighted, and had 
rather the air of being underground tnan otherwise. 
The two brothers went direct to this emporium, and 
threaded their way among mighty crates, with musty 
hay peering throndi their ribs as if from a manger, to 
the sanctum of Mr Ineram Arbour, which was like 
one of those boxes, and not much larger, in which 
private watchmen keep guard at night over banks and 
other bmldin^i, wherein it is essential to persuade the 
public that tiiere is money lodced. Uncle Ingram 
ndd out a finger to his little nephew, by way of wel- 
come to commercial life ; and Dick, having taken hold 
of it respectfully, bent it slightly — ^having found it 
impoBsibis to shake it— and retimied it to its x^ro- 
pnetor. 

* Yon had better take him to Mr Mickleham, Adol- 
phns, for the present, and he will set him to work at 
once. And mmd jrou're a good boy, sir, from hence- 
forth—d'ye hear? — and whatever you do, don't throw 
my china about into people's eyes.' 

With which not very encouraging remark. Uncle 
Ingram turned to the newspaper that was lying 
above his ledger, as it sometimes does, I have 
obserred, with the best of budness men, and Dick 
and hia oonductor, like Dante and his guide 



m 



another place, resumed their way throng the g^oom. 
This time, however, they ascended a flight of stairs, 
and returned across another floor to a room which 
overlooked the narrow street. A benevolent-looking 
old gentleman, with gold spectades and slightly hala, 
sat at a huge desk with an enormous book before 
him, lisping with his mouth almost shut, not in num- 
bers, but in figures, to himself. It struck Dick that 
he must have been always doing this, and wondered 
within himself whether it could have been this very 
individual who had invented * Practice ' for the con- 
fusion of youth. So soon as he spoke, however, it was 
evident that he was far too good-natured a person to 
have done anything of the sort. 

*Grood-day, Mr Adolphus,' said he in a cheery 
voice; 'and is this your brother Dick come to be 
lord mayor of London, and I don't know what 
bedde ? Let us shake hands, my good younc sir.' 

Mr Mickleham descended cautiously from his 
perch, by help of a cross-bar let into the legs of his 
lofty stool for that very purpose, and gave Dick a 
hearty -welcome. *I think,' continued he, as the 
little fellow squeezed the friendly hand as ti^tly as 
ho could, *we shall get on very well together, we 
two.' 

* If you do,' observed Adolphus grimly. * you '11 be 
about the first that has done it with that young 
gentleman.' 

* Pooh, pooh, pooh — hush, hush ! ' cried the old man ; 
' I know nothing of all that, and I won't hear any- 
thing about it. When such little lads as these get 
into trouble, there are always faults on both sides.' 

* Well, well,* returned Adolphus, * time will shew ; 
only, ii I am not very much out in my calcula- 
tions ' 

•That's just what you're making me be,' inter- 
posed the old gentleman. * If the lad is to be under 
my care for awhile, I cannot be distracted by anything 
else, if you please. I shall have to begin again wiw 
Oockspur and Triangle's accoimt, as it is.' 

The heir-presumptivc of the house walked off with a 
grating laugh, and left the old man and the boy 
togctb^. Mr Mickleham looked at Dick without 
speaking, until the echoes of the departing footsteps 
had di^ aWay ; then he drew him nearer to the 
light, and patted his curly locks approvingly. 
* Kichard — your name is Kichard, isn't it ? — ^Richard, 
my boy,' said he in a tender tone, *do you under- 
stand book-keeping ? ' 

Dick modestly replied that he was afraid he was 
not very good at it. 

* Have you ever heard of B^tteher, Richard — of the 
great Bottcher?' 

Dick rather thou^t that he had heard the name 
(or something very hke it) before. 

* Of course you have,* replied the old centleman 
with enthusiasm ; * who has not heard of the famous 
Bytteher? Who does not feel regret that such a 
genius was not our own fellow-countr3nnan ?' 

* Ah, who indeed ! ' murmured poor Dick, who fdt 
that he was getting credit somehow for knowing 
something or other of which he was profoundly 
ignorantb 

* Here,' continued the old man, delighted at finding 
a willing listener, if not a sympathiser with his pu^ 
ticular hobby — ' hero is a piece of Meissen porcelain 
that has once been in the great Bdtteher's own fingers. 
You remember, doubtless, how the idea of making 
the white porcelain was suggested to him by the 
hair-powder which his valet put on his wig ; how pre- 
cious became the earth from which it was made, and 
how it was forbidden to be exported, and was brought 
into the manu factory in sealed oanrds by jiersons sworn 
to secrecy. The whole history of pottery can be read in 
those shdves yonder, Bichard.' He pointed to innumer- 
able specimens of porcelain and earthenware amoved 
like pictures upon the wall, and carefully classified. 
'This is the pattern-room, and in these drawers are 



TT 



52 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



bundredB of specimenB of the modem ware ; bat those 
are the ancient gems, the priceless treasures.' With as 
great a reverence as Ultramontanist ever paid to relic, 
ne took down a misshapen and black brown some- 
thing out of a sort of iron net on the extreme left of 
theiine of shelves, and exclaimed with an air of 
triumph : * Now what do you think of this, 
Richard?* 

*It's very ugly, isn't it, please, sir?' said Dick, 
determined to speak plainly this time, and not to be 
misunderstood aeain. 

* Ugly ! ' cried Mr Mickleham in a tone of the 
most undisguised horror. * Why, I begin to think that 
what has been said of you must be true. Ugly ! Why, 
you young reprobate, this was found in a tomb at 
Thebes, and must have been manufactured nearly 
fifteen hxmdred years before the Christian era. It was 
made, perhaps, by the very father of the art. Ugly ! 
Why, what on earth were those bright eyes given you 
for?' 

* I beg your pardon, sir,' replied Dick with sincere 
contrition ; * I reallv am no judge at alL I 'm only 
thirteen years old, although I look so tall. I daresay 
it is a very pretty jug indeed.' 

* Jug ! ' echoed Mr Mickleham with a shriek ; * it 's a 
bottle, sir ; a bottle of Chinese stoneware. Here is a 
sun-dried brick from Babylon, with a cuneiform 
inscription on it, telling us that it was made at the 
establishment of the Messrs Cockspur and Triangle 
of that epoch. That straw and clay, sir, were put 
together three thousand years ago. Here, again, is a 
clav-book from the private library of Sennacherib, 
and contains the inventory of the furniture of his 
palace. Descending to modem times, here is a beau- 
tiful rustic figure from the hands of Bernard Palissy 
himself, he who, being unable to pay his assistant his 
wages, gave him the coat off his own back, and after 
sixteen years of poverty-stricken existence, triumphed. 
This rose-coloured Sevres Cupid was made for the 
famous Madame Dubarry, whose exquisite taste in 
porcelain must not, however, be permitted to blind us 
to the impropriety of her behaviour ; she was as frail 
as her pink china. This splendid vase was one of 
a set purchased by Augustus III. at the price of a 
whole regiment of dragoons, and to my mind was 
worth a squadron ; while this tea-cup, made by Charles 

III. of Nor Goodness Heavens ! look, boy ! you 

have younger si^ht than I : can this, by any possi- 
bility, be a crack in the handle ? Come here ; I would 
not venture to take it off its nail for half the treasures 
of Dresden.' 

* It's only a cobweb, sir,' observed Dick, examining 
it ; * just let me blow it away.' 

* Not for vour life, boy, not for your life ! ' exclaimed 
Mr Mickleham in unaffected terror. *0h, the rash- 
ness and foolhardineas of youth ! Just run your eye 
over this accoimt for me, and tell me what you make 
it. What a turn you have given me, lad ; I shan't be 
fit for work for the next half hour. There 's the bell 
going for the workmen's dinner, luckily, so I can 
conscientiously devote the interval to limcheon.' The 
old gentleman opened a cupboard, and produced some 
sherry and biscuits. * You must be hungry, lad, after 
l)eing in the country-air this morning. I remember it 
gave me a tremendous appetite the last time I was in 
it — between thirteen and fourteen years ago.' 

* Do you stop in this place all the year round, sir ? ' 
inquired the lad with astonishment. 

* Pretty much,' retumed the old gentleman, laugh- 
ing. * I very rarely go far away, at all events ; and 
don't you tmnk it 's a very nice place too ? ' 

*I like this room, sir, and I like you,' answered 
Dick ; * but I don't like Darkendim Street, nor that 
smell of old straw down stairs.' 

* Smell of old straw ! ' replied the other. * Why, what 
a strange boy you are. I never smell any old straw. 
What fancies lads do take into their giddy heads ! 
You must dismiss all that, Richard, you know ; for 



the 



after a day or two, when I have seen what sort of an 
accountant you make, you will be put in the packing 
department under your brother Adolphus. Lior^ bless 
you, lad, you will get to like the old house in tixne so 
much that there will be no getting you away from it^' 

Dick thought within himself, that aluiouffh he 
should get to be as old as the Babylon brick, this 
would never happen, but he kept the reflectioo 
within his own bosom. 

*And now, my boy, we must not waste our time 
any longer ; please to add up all these several sums in j 
that sheet yonder, and see if you can verify **" 
amounts which I have in my desk.' 

So Dick was set to work, and laboured on 
duously till four o'clock, at which hour Mr Ingram 
Arbour came in with his hat on, and after having 
received a favourable account of his nephew*8 exer- 
tions, bade him get ready, and come along with him 
to Golden Square. His uncle and Adolphus walked on 
rapidly together, and the boy trotted benind them, con- 
fused by the unaccustomed throng and din, and keeping 
to the heels of his unanxious relatives only with the 
greatest difficulty. After a most exciting run of forty 
minutes, diversified by perils of crossings, stiipendons in 
Dick's Arcadian eyes, he arrived at h^ new homa 

Golden Square, as most people know, is not a very 
cheerful spot, from whatever pom t of view it ia regarded ; 
but when approached from the Regent Street aide, as 
it chanced to be in the present instance, it appean, 
by contrast to that thoroughfare, more especially 
sombre. The scanty snow too, which still lay here 
and there on the spouts of the houses and on the 
brinks of the gutters, intensified the general gloom ; aiad 
the whole impression given to poor Dick, fresh from 
Rose Cottage, was, that Golden Square was little better 
than Darkendim Street. A pretty waiting-maid 
opened the door, and a nice-looking, and rather statdy 
old lady received them in the hall with a cartsy, and 
kissed Kichard's cheek. * Excuse the liberty, young 
sir,' said she ; * but I have been a great many yean 
in your good uncle's house, and my heart is dlrawn 
towards those that are of his kith and kin.' 

Dick retumed the salute with cordiality, as became 
his genial nature, and was about to extend the sphere 
of his benevolence to the younger female, when 
Adolphus, touching his uncle's sleeve, drew his atten- 
tion to that circumstance, and Mr Ingram Arbour 
roared out : * What are you about, sir ? ' and * How old, 
in the name of all the vices, is that boy ? Take him 
into the housekeeper's room, Mrs Trimming, and let 
him have his tea and cold meat with you — that is to 
say, if you are not afraid of the young dog. It will 
never do for a child like that to be dining late everv 
day.' 

With this somewhat inconsistent speech, the miu^sr 
of the house and his myrmidon ascended to the upper 
floors, and the old lady having conducted the lad mto 
a comfortable little sitting-room below the level of the 
street-pavement, set before him a handsome piece <A 
cold beef and a jug of ale ; after which she surveyed 
him admiringly, through her silver spectacles, for the 
space of a minute, and then deliberately kissed him 
again. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

OOLDBN SQCAEX. 

For the first week, Richard Arbour bore his tnuu- 
portation to town with equanimity; he liked Mr 
Mickleham and Mrs Trimming, and saw httle of his 
uncle and brother. When they went down, at the 
end of the week, to Rose Cottage, leaving him in 
(rolden Squai-e, he thought it ra&cr hard; but the 
old housekeeper was so kind, and Betsy so tender, 
that he was not so very miserable after alL But 
after this exile had lasted for some ten weeks or so, 
and shifted from the pattern-room to the packing 
department, he had been exposed day after day to 
the insolence and cruelty of Adolphus, he began to find 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



53 



life in Darkendim Strecdi irksome indeed. Appeals to 
the head of the firm — who was of opinion that 'all 
complaints from inferiors against their superiors were 
alike frivolous and vexatious — he soon found were 
utterly fruitless ; and as for praise from that quarter 
for the things that he did well and dutifuUy — he 
might as well have looked for apricots upon a 
clothes-prop. Mr Ingram Arbour, who was oy no 
means loth to receive the harvest of a well-spent 
life himself fpom the general public, in such titles 
as Ptudent, Well-to-do, Independent, Respectable, 
and the Uke, had never been known to bestow a 
grain of it in the way of encouragement of other 
people. He prided himself too mucm upon his prac- 
tical character to have any respect for the value of 
fair words. He had become possessed of a foolish 
saying against them in the connection with the 
buttmng of parsnips, and thought himself rather a 
philosopher in its application. Most men who are 
much addicted to proverbs are mentally short-sighted, 
and our seller of chinaware was in that way a ]^rfect 
Solomon at second-hand. *■ A straw will shew us which 
way the wind blows,' says the commonplace sage, and 
never takes into account the place where he finds the 
straw, and the thousand eddies wherein it is like to 
be whirled by currents of which he never dreams. 

Uncle Ingram and Nephew Richard drifted further 
and further away from one another daily on the freez- 
ing sea of mutual discontent, and we may be sure 
that a breath from a certain quarter was not wanting 
to make matters worse between them. 

Dick, who was a sharp lad — for all that Messrs 
Dot and Carriwun thought — could unlock a ward 
or two of his brother's character already, and Avith 
the imprudence of his years had made Adolphus 
aware of this proficiency. He had been so indiscreet 
— in a certain altercation at the office concerning the 
breakage of some little Etruscan pitchers— as to 
remind that young man of Betsy's having boxed his 
ears one day, within Dick's hearing, and doubtless 
for provocation received ; and that in a tone of voice 
which might have been heard in the sentry-box, 
had Uncle Ingram chanced to be on guard there. 
Adolphus smiled contemptuously upon the absurd 
libel at the time, but two chinamen who had been 
heard to giggle behind a crate, lost their situations, 
for misconduct, within the we^ nor in the end was 
the disclosure a laughing matter to anybody. Mr 
Joseph Surface never likes that decent screen to be 
thrown down which so often stands in the comer 
of his apartment, whether Lady Teazle be really 
concealed behind it or not. 

On the second Saturday that Richard was left alone 
in Qolden Square, Mrs Trimming entertained companv. 
The respect which Mr Ingram Arbour eviaently 
had for that lady was so high, that Richard never 
doubted but that the dining-room was used b^ her 
that night instead of her own apartment with his full 
permission ; and, indeed, she looked so ' superior ' and 
* genteel' on the evening in question, tmit nobody 
would have ventured to dispute her privilege to sit 
wherever she pleased. She had a black s3k gown 
on, which stood out in its own right without the aid 
of crinoline, like cardboard; and the lace that she 
wore voluminously about her was of that faded, not to 
say dingy complexion, which is known (very familiarly) 
as Old Point. The expression upon Mrs Trimmini^s 
features, too, was gala-like to an extraordinary degree 
upon this night of her reception. Dick hardly recog- 
nised the staid and stately housekeeper in the 
animated and joyous dd lady who superintended 
Betsy as she set out supper upon the mignty dining- 
table — for three. One person only, then, was to come 
to supper. The boy had expected a dozen guests at 
leasts so tremendous had been the preparations. Who 
could this distinguished visitor be? thought he, for 
the sake of whom he Bad been adjured to put on his 
Sunday clothes, and in whose honour Betsy wore 



as nmny ribbons as would have served a recruiting 
party — which, indeed, {lerhaps she was. 

When all the arrangements were completed to her 
satisfaction, and the dock struck 9 p. m., Mrs Trim- 
ming seated herself before the fire with her feet on the 
iender, and her silk gown furled like a banner on her 
lap, in the attitude of expectation. 

* Betsy,' said she, with great distinctness, * when Mr 
Jones — ^Mr Jones, you know — knocks at the door, tell 
him who is here; tell him, before he enters, that 
Master Richard does him the honour of supping with 
him to-night.' 

Dick looked at the raised pie and the lobster upon 
the well-furnished table, and protested with sincerity 
that for his part he esteemed it a real pleasure to sup 
with Mr Jones. His politeness had hitherto prevented 
him from speaking of the expected visitor, but mention 
having thus been made of him, he ventured to ask 
whether Mr Jones was a nice man. 

* A nice man ! ' ejaculated the old lady, with a 
sudden flush upon her wrinkled countenance. ' Oh, I 
forgot ; you do not know him ; how should you, my 
poor boy? Well, he is generallv considered rather 
nice, I lielieve ; is he not,^tsy ? 

*0 yes, ma'am,' replied that domestic; * he is so 
beautiful, and so genteel-like, and so kind; and then 
there's nothing luce pride about Mr Jones neither, 
who has been everywhere, and done such a many 
things. In fact, for my part — though I'm only a ser- 
vant, ma'am, and no judge — I never set eyes on any 
person to at all come up to Mr Jones in any way.' 

Mrs Trimming rubbed her white hands softly 
together, and nodded her head, as if keeping time 
with these commendations ; and when they were con- 
cluded, looked at Dick with sparkling eyes, as though 
she would ask him what he thought of Mr Jones now. 

It is a little difficult to be enthusiastic about people 
that we have never seen — although, judging from the 
expectations of many persons in all classes of society, 
it would seem to be one of the easiest performances of 
the human mind — and Dick could only reiterate his 
satisfaction at the opportunitv which was about to be 
afforded to lum of making the acquaintance of this 
pai^on. 

*'niat'8 his step, Betsy,' cried the old lady sud- 
denly : * nm to the door, Betsy ; quick.' 

* Please, ma'am, I think it's only the pleaceman 



as 



The old lady shook her head with a smile as a 
double rap at the door, which seemed to shake the 
house, and ^ve the Square assurance of a gentieman, 
cut short this incredulous speech. 

'I think I ought to know his step by this time,' 
quoth Mrs Trimming tenderly. 

There was a littie whispering in the hall, intemipted 
by a * Never mind, Betsy ; who the dickens cares ?' in 
ringing cheery tones ; and in strode the guest of the 
evening. He was a handsome well-built young man 
enough, of some nine-and-twenty years of age — unless 
his gemal maimer lightened him of a year or two — 
but not of such a surpassing loveliness, as Dick 
thought, as to excuse Mrs Trimming, at her time of 
life, for throwing her arms round his neck and kissing 
him on both his cheeks. 

* Mr Jones is a very old friend of mine,' observed 
she in extenuation, and when she had got back her 
breath again. *I daresay you thought it very odd 
that I should do such a thing as that. Master Richard, 
and odder still that such a handsome young fellow 
should salute me again.' 

Dick gallantiy hastened to say, that he saw nothing 
out of the course of nature in the proceeding, at all, 
for that he himself cherished the remembrance of that 
embrace which had been bestowed upon him by Mrs 
Trimming on the day of his arrival most warmly: 
whereat Mr Jones observed, approvinely, that he was 
a jolly littie chap, and the three sat down to supper, 
excellent friends. 



54 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



~\ 



There was, however, one disturbing thought in the 
mind of Dick that came between his appetite and the 
raised pie, and interfered with his acquaintanceship 
wi^ the lobster again and again ! Where had he seen 
this Mr Jones before, and under what previous circum- 
stances ? He could not have been the medical gentle- 
man who had ushered him into the world thirteen years 
ago and more, for that would have presumed hmi to 
have obtained the right of exercising that delicate 
function at the early age of fifteen or sixteen ; and 
b<^des, Dick had always heard that Dr Nevcralecp 
had been the master of that situcation : and yet it was 
somehow with a baby that Mr Jones was associated 
in Dick's mind. With a baby and with a baptism — 
yes, so far so good ; but not with hia baptism, for the 
parson of the parish — as he had a silver mug with that 
reverend gentleman's name upon it to prove — had 
'stood' for him, as second sponsor, and not Mr Jones. 
Dick was endeavouring to remember whether he had 
ever been at the christening of anybody else except 
himself, when the mysterious stranger cut short his 
meditations with, *Come, young gentleman, let us 
have a glass of wine together.' 

The voice was entire^ strange to him, and seemed 
to break the spell — to loosen and throw into confusion 
the links out of which his memory was striving to 
construct a connected chain. It was good, however, 
to listen to Mr Jones for other reasons. For so appar- 
ently youns a man, his experience was amazingly 
larse, and whatever he hod to tell of, he narrated well, 
ana even brilliantly. He had been a sailor ; and he 
made Dick long for the blue expanse of ocean lyinc; 
dreamy under the tropic sky, and anon, wild with 
fury, climbing, white-lipped, up the reeling vessel's 
side ; he spoke of the islands of the West, ^xiiere fruit, 
and flower, and bird were, as Dick's literature led him 
to believe, as they ought to be, till the lad longed for 
those Eden bowers, and loathed the tether^ and 
inadventurous life that he himself was doomed to lead. 
Betsy, who had tacitly obtained permission to remain 
in the room, drank in these wonders with open mouth 
and e^es ; and Mrs Trinmiing listened to them with the 
delighted look of one whose admiration is too great to 
give place to iuterest, and who draws her proudest 
dleasuro from the nwt faces of h&r fellow-ustencrs. 
Thus the time swiftly passed, and it was nigh mid- 
nieht when Mr Jones suddenly rose up, exclaiming : 
* Y ou have made me chatter so that I have clean for- 
gotten my pipe. I suppose I may go down stairs as 
usual?' 

Master Richard Arbour took up his chamber candle- 
stick with a sigh. 

* Would you like to keep me company, young 
gentleman? observed the visitor, perceiving his dis- 
molination to depart. *■ When I was your age, 1 smoked 
a pipe myself. Let him sit up ror me, instead of 
Betsy, madam, and lock the front door after me ? We 
shan t be tweniy minutes altogether.' 

*0h, please do let me, Mrs Trimming,' entreated 
the lad. 

To which the old lady replied, first, that nothing 
could induce her to suffer anything of the sort to be 
done, and that if it was done, she would be unworthy 
to fill the responsible situation which she occupied in 
that house for ever afterwards; and secondly, that 
she could never refuse Mr Jones anything, and that 
his young friend might do as he likecL 

So the two retired to Mrs Trimming's ordinary 
sitting-room ; and Mr Jones not only fiUed his own 
piiK) with a pleasant but iwwerful mixture of tobacco, 
but endowea Master Richard with another, furnished 
with Turkish Latakia, or, as he himself expressed 
it, * mother's milk.' Under the influence of this 
novel narcotic and Mr Jones's stirring narra- 
tions, the lad passed much such an evening as an 
imaginative yoimg Persian may be supposed to 
do on his first introduction to hashis. Only 
whenever Mr Jones made pause, if it were but 



to take a momoitary sip at his gin and 
and the voice of the charmer ceased, agun Dick's 
brain would revert to the inquiry of. Where Acme 
I seen this man before, and how is it that I know 
that face so well ? He had certainly seen him duia- 
tened, or cU& christening — that was a settled matter, 
and might be put aside ; but had he not also seen hnn 
being married, or giving in marriage somebody else ? 
Nay, at a funoral, too— it couldn't hkve been at papa^s 
funeral, for Dick had been but a baby when mat 
hi^penad — ^but at some funeral, somewhere, he had 
most certainlv beheld Mr Jones, with his hat oS, 

standing by the grave-side in the open air 1^ 

front door was open, and the cold ni^t-wind hlowiag 
freely upon his brow when Dick got thus far. 

* You feel better now, lad?' Mr Jones was sayini^ in 
the voice that was so stranfie to the lad's ear — ^* yon 
feel better now, don't you? You should never swalknr 
your smoke, my young friend, nor drink your gm and 
water out of the spoon. Grood-night, Dick ; I ahall 
see you again soon. Now, mind, when I shut the door, 
you must put up the chain directiy. There ! ' 

A tremendous bang echoed throu^ the house — ^6 
protest of a respectable door, bearing such a name at 
Ingram Arbour upon it, at being unmwfully shunmed 
at three o'clock upon a Sabbath morning — and "Umf^i* 
Richard reached his sleeping-apartment by a Mries of 
tackings and lurches, and got into bed with hia boots 
on. 



OSCULATION. 

When a fair correspondent inquired of the * 
Apollo,' why kissing was so much in fashion, what 
benefit was derived from it, and who was its in^en^ 
tor, the oracle answered : ' Ah, madam, had yoa a 
lover, you woidd not come to Apollo for a solution ; 
since tiicre is no dispute but the kisses of mutual 
lovers give infinite satisfaction. As to its inyentum, 
it is certain Nature was its author, and it begam 
with the first courtship.' Apollo was li^l We 
indignantiy scout the assertions of those unromantio 
individuals who maintain, that in the desire of the 
suf^icious ancients to test their wives' and daog^ifcfln^ 
sobriety, orisinated a practice reprobated by Soflnates 
the ])hiloflO{mer, CaA> the censor, Ambrose the saint, 
and Bunjran the tinker, and lauded by lyzisfes and 
lovers from the beginning of time. 

Our tattooed pro^nitors must have been haxlttriiM 
indeed, if we are to believe the Scandinavian traditian, 
that kissing was an exotic pleasure introduced into tibu 
island by Kowena, the beautiful daughter of Hengist 
the Saxon. At a banquet given by the British monaich 
in honour of his allies, the prmcess, after p 
the brimming beaker to her lips, saluted the 

ished and d^ghted Vortigem with a little kii ., 

the manner m her own x)eople. So well did tUs 
novel importation thrive under the cloudy akiea of 
England, that from being an occasional luxury, it rnxm 
became an everyday enjoyment, and the 1<ingii«ii 
were celebrated far and near as a kissixig people; 
and not without reason, for our ancestors did nothing 
by halves. In Edward IV. 's reign, a goest was 
exjpected on his arrival, and also on his departure, to 
salute not only his hostess, but all the ladies of the 
family. This pretty piece of civility not a little 
astonished a Greek visitor to the court of bluff King 
HaL So widely spread was the osculatory reputation 
of Englishmen, that when Wolsey's biographer visited 
a French nobleman at his ch&teau, the mistress of the 
mansion entering the room with her bevy of attendant 
maid^iB, thus accosted her husband's guest : ' ForaS' 
much as ye be an Englishman, whose custom it is in 
your country to kiss all ladies and gentlewomen 
without offence, and although it be not so here in 
thiB realm, yet will I be so JSold as to kiss you, and 
so shall all my maidens.' A promise no sooner made 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



than redeemed, to the inezpnBsible satisfftction of 
Cavendish. 

How prettily does Shakspeare*8 Helena beg a kiss of 
her uncouth, churlish husband ! 

' I am not worthy of the wealth I own ; 
Nor dare I say 'tis mine ; and yet it is ; 
Bnt, like a timorous thie^ most fain would steal 
What law does Touch mine own.' 

*What would you have?' 
* Something ; and scarce so much ; — ^nothing, indeed — 
I would not tell you what I would, my lord — &ith, yes — 
Strangers and foes do sunder, and not loss.' 

From the conclusion of the poor damsel's appeal, we 
might infer that some degree of intimacy preceded 
admission to the sweet privilege, had we not con- 
temporary evidence to uie contnur. In a story 
founded on the same plot as Oymbdiney we are told 
how the lachimo of the tale lay at Waltam a whole 
day before he caught sight of the lady ; when, seeing 
her in a field, he went up to her, and kissed her — * a 
thing no modest woman can deny.' The practice was 
in fnH vigour when Erasmus sojourned m the land, 
and wrote enthusiastically in its commendation : ' If 
yon ^ to any place, you are received with a kiss by 
all; if you depart on a journey, you are dismissed 
wiUi a kiss ; you return — kisses are exchanged ; they 
come to visit you — a kiss the first thing ; uiey leave 
you — ^you kiss them all round. Do they meet you 
anywhere? — kisses in abundance. Lastly, wherever 
you move, there is nothing but kisses — and if you had 
but once tasted them ! how soft they are ! how fra- 
srant! on my honour, you would wish not to reside 
Here for ten years only, but for lifel' Ladies then 
used kissing-comfitB of amber-grease to sweeten tiieir 
breath I When the Constable of Castile visited i^^ 
English court after the accession of James I., proud 
and pompous as the Spaniard was, he was right well 
pleased to bestow a kiss on Anne of Denmark^ pretty 
maids of honour, 'according to the custom of the 
country, any neglect of which is taken as an afiront.' 
Clever Chnstma of Sweden, taking her ladies to dine 
with Cromwell's ambassador, commanded him to 
teach her suite the Engliah mode of salutation — an 
order readily obeyed by Whitelock, who, after a few 
coy and * pretty defences,' found his pupils apt scholars, 
their lipe readily obeying hii instructions. Tom 
Oarew, one of the mob of gentlemen who wrote at 
ease, and very free and easily into the bargain, 
dedfues kissing an infallible cure for the toothache. 
It was then a common salutation between men, 
aHhouffh we do not suppose Tom's prescription 
referred to male kisses. It was also a oonmion 
civility in Paris, according to St Evremond, because 
kisses were conunodities costing nothing, never 
wearing out, and always to be had in abundance. In 
Englai5, it gradually declined, not in consequence of 
the ^orbs of the inspired tinker, who abhorred the 
VDcomely pnctice, and who was wont to put down 
those who urged in defence that it was merely a 
civility, by asking them, *Why they made baulks? 
Why they salutea the most handsome, and let the 
ill-favoured ones go ?' but because it grew unfashion- 
able in France. It was still in some vogue under 
William and Mary, but we find Rustic Sprightly 
complaining to the Spectator^ that since the unhappy 
arrival in his neighbourhood of a courtier who was 
contented with a profound bow, no young gentle- 
woman had been kissed, though previously he had 
been accustomed, upon entering a room, to salute the 
ladies all round. 

In olden time, a kiss was the fee exacted by every 
gentleman from his partner in the dance : 

What fool would dance 
If that, when dance is done. 
He may not have at Iruly's Up 
That which in danoe he won ? 



Ariel sings : * Curtmed when you have and kissed ;' 
and Henry says to Anne Boleyn : 

Sweetheart, 
I were unmannerly to take you out. 
And not to kiss you ! 

Then there were * kissing dances,' in some of which, 
when the fiddler thought the dancers had had enou^ 
music, he sounded two notes, which all understood to 
mean *kiss her!' In others, the kissing took place 
while the dancers were in full career, when the gentl*» 
men were compelled to dwell on the lips of their 
partners almost a minute, or they would be too quick 
for the music, and dance ^uite out of tune. Custom 
still warrants stealing a kiss from a sleeping beau^ 
at any season, and from waking ones under the 
Christmas misletoe. In Russia, kisses are Easter 
offerings. There ev^y member of a family salutea 
eveiy other member ; acquaintances greet each other 
with a kiss; public employes salute their princ^als 
and one another ; the general embraces the officers of 
his oor{)s; the colonel those of his regiment and « 
deputation from the ranks ; while the captain kisset 
aU the soldiers of his company. The czar salutes his 
family, retinue, court, and attendants ; pays a similar 
compliment to his offioers on parade, the sentinels at 
the palace gates, and a select party of private soldienk 
In some parts, anybody may he compeUed to kiss any- 
body else ; the poorest serf meeting a hig^-bom dame 
in the street has but to say : * Chnst is risen,' aikl ha 
will receive a kiss, and ' Me is truly risen,' in reply. 
In Finland, if Bayard Taylor is to be credited, the 
women have a curious aversion to what the sex usually 
receive with complacency, if not pleasure. A Finniw 
matron, on hearmg thi^ it was a conmum thing in 
Eogland for man and wife to kiss, expressed greai 
disgust thereat, declaring emphaticaUy that if her 
husband dared to take such a liberty, she would give 
him a box on the ears he would feel for a month I 

In the e^es of our law, kissing a lady against her 
will, or without her permiasion (terms not exactly 
synonymous), is a common assault punishable l^ 
fine or imprisonment ; penalties not always sufficieift 
to deter susceptible men from yielding to roqr 
temptation. 

In France, by the code of regulations by which the 
theatres are governed^ any actor kisedng an actrea 
without her consent is liable to a fine of so maegr 
francs. The husband of a popular fVench actreai 
brought the sti^e-lover before the tribunal for 
having comzmtted the offence to a most alanning 
and unwazrantable extenl The defendant at fin* 
pleaded consent of tl|e lady ; this being disproved, he 
audaciously offered to settle the matter by retumiog 
the kisses : 

'Dearest beauty, you oomplain 

That I killed you with a kiss ; 
then, take it hack again, 

Lest I justly curse my bliss ' — 

a mode of payment of course indignantly rejected by 
the plaintiff We do not know what the Londoa 
green-room law is on this pleasant question — ^the 
practice on the stage varies considerably. In general, 
stage salutes are most palpable make-believes; one 
popular comedian never trusts his face within kissing- 
range, but then his wife generally plays in the same 
piece, so he may have good reason for his caution ; 
others we could name, who, providing the lusser be 
fair, take the benefit of the act ; ana we remember 
seeing an actor, taking advantage of a favourable 
opportunity, salute a pretty actress, although there 
was no stage direction to justify him — a piece of * gag ' 
which the lady very properly accepted as the cue tor 
as unequivocal a box on the ear as ever fair handa 
administered. 

Every one knows how Margaret of Scotland kissed 
the ugly and sleeping Chartier, and how she justified 



I 



56 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



her taste by declaring, that a mouth from which such 
a profusion of wit had proceeded needed no other 
grace to make it beautiiuL Voltaire, too, had the 
honour of being publicly kissed in the stage-box by 
the young and lovely Duchess de ViUars; but in his 
case the lady gave the salute not of her own free-will, 
but in obedience to the commands of the pit, mad 
with enthusiasm for the poet's Merope, 

Kissing the pope's toe was a fashion introduced by 
one of the Leos, who had mutilated his right hand. 
Kissing hands was a regal ceremony practised at 
least as early as the days of Caligula. When the 
gallant cardinal, John of Lorraine, was presented to 
the Duchess of Savoy, she gave him ner hand to 
kiss, greatly to the indignation of the irate church- 
man. * How, madam ! ' exclaimed he ; * am I to be 
treated in this manner? I kiss the queen my mis- 
tress, who is the greatest queen in tne world, and 
shall I not kiss you, a dirty little duchess ? I would 
have you know I have kissed as handsome ladies, 
and of as great or greater family than you ! * With- 
out more ado, he made for the lips of the proud 
Portuguese princess, and despite her resistance, kissed 
her thrice on her mouth before he released her with 
an exultant laugh. Cardinal John was apparently 
of one mind with Selden, who thought * to kiss ladies' 
hands after their lips, as some do, is like little boys, 
who, after they eat the apple, fall to the paring.' 
When Charles 11. was maiung his triiunphal pro- 
gress through the land, certain country ladies who 
were presented to him, instead of kissing the royal 
hand, in their simplicity held up their own heads to 
be kissed by the king — a blunder no one would 
more readily excuse than the Merry Monarch. 

Kisses, says Sam Slick, are like creation, because 
they are made out of nothing, and are very good. A 
countryman of the dockmaker conjugate the verb 
thus: Buss, to kiss; rebus, to kiss again; pluribus, 
to kiss without regard to number ; sillybus, the hand 
instead of the lips; blunderbuss, to kiss the wrong 
person; omnibus, to kiss everybody in the room; 
erebus, to kiss in the dark. Kissing one's own sister 
has been aptly likened to eating a veal sandwich; 
carrying out the comparison, kissing one's cousin — 
unless snc be a particular cousin, one coming imder 
the denomination 'dangerous' — may be considered 
equivalent to discussing a beef sandwich ; and the 
chaste salute snatched from the lips of the lass we 
love, to the piquante, appetite-provoking combination 
of hain, mustard, and bread. 

It \b upon record that the woods of Madeira, or at 
anyrate the people in them, once trembled at a kiss ; 
and that the Scotch parson kissed the fiddler's 
wife, and could not preach for thinking of it, a 
notable instance of sweetness long drawn out. An 
old treatise on the Pleasures of Matrimony and its 
preliminary Courtship, assures us that when a lady 
condescends to treat her lover by letting him taste 
the charming cherries of her lips, and suck .from 
thence the fragrant breath tiiat tar exceeds Arabia's 
rich perfume, the privilege wraps the happy man in 
such pleasure that he imagines he is in Elysium! 
But tms is flat, stale, and unproiitable, compared with 
the effect of a kiss upon the hero of a modem Grerman 
novel — * Sophia returned my kiss, and the earth 
went from under my feet ; my soid was no longer in 
my body; I touched the stars. I knew the happiness 
of the seraphim ! ' Poor fellow ! it must have been a 
sad thing for him when he landed on the terra firma 
of matrimony. 

Kissing, like the rest of the good things of life, 
should be indulged in in moderation. The ruddiest 
lip cloys with too much kissing. Young ladies may 
iustly hold in contempt the man who can number his 
kisses, and take the poet's word for it, that he will be 
content with few ; but we agree with the lassie in the 
play, that ' waste not, want not, appUes to kisses as 
weU as to siller;' and such a prodigal as the jovial 



vicar, who, not satisfied with obtaining a kiss, 
the lady to add to that a score — 

Then to that twenty add a hundred more ; 
A thousand to that hundred ; so kiss on 
To make that thousand up a million ; 
Treble that million, and when that is done. 
Let 's kiss afresh, as when we first begun ! 

deserved never again to taste the cherry ripe he lo 
prettily sang. 

Since kissing for good-manners' sake became a 
fashion of the past, kissine has gone by favour ; ao if 
any of our fair readers wiU blow a kiss to us, we will 
blow a kiss to them, and they may do so with perfect 
safety, for we never kiss and telL 



AX ARCTIC WINTER TWO HUNDRED 

YEARS AGO. 

IN TWO CHAPTERS. — CHAPTER II. 

Our brave old adventurers seem to have been very 
loyal, and great observers of saints' days. The Ist of 
March, being St David's Day, was kept as a holiday, 
and they ' prayed for his Highness Charles Prince of 
Wales.' In the course of the month, several attempts 
were made to capture deer, but on each occasion the 
hunters returned without success, and almost dead of 
cold. The carpenter was by this time very sickly, yet 
persevered in setting uj) the framework of the pin- 
nace, and Captain James gives a vivid idea of the 
extreme difficulties under which wood was procured 
for the purpose of making floor and futtock timbers. 
The men who *were appointed to look for crooked 
timber did stalk and wade, sometimes on all-four, 
through the snow, and when they saw a tree likely 
to fit the mould, they must heave away the snow, to 
see if it would fit the mould ; if not, they must seek 
further. If it did fit the mould, they made a fire to it 
to thaw it, otherwise it could not be cut. Then they 
cut it down, and fitted it to the length of the mould, 
and dragged it a mile through the snow.' Although 
they lived in a wood, they seem to have had hard 
work to keep up a good supply of fuel, owing princi- 
pally to the lack of suitable tools for cutting down 
trees. The 1st of April was kept holy, being Easter 
Day, and the weak and diminished crew 'reasoned 
together' about their condition. There were five men, 
including the carpenter, quite helpless ; the boatswain 
and others very infirm ; and of all the rest, only five 
could cat of their ordinary food. The season had 
advanced, but it was cold as ever. The pinnace was 
not in a forward state, and the carpenter was shelved. 

* After much arguing,' they resolved to dig the ice out 
of the sunk vessel the first warm weather that came. 
On the 6th, was the deepest snow they had hitherto 
had ; and until the 16th the weather continued 
extremely severe, and the spring was frozen harder at 
its source than ever before. Then came a comfortable 
sunshiny day, which enabled them to clear the upper 
decks of the Henrietta Maria of snow, and to make a 
fire in the great cabin, and to dig the anchor up out of 
the ice. They also dug to find the missing rudder, 
but without avail On the 19th, the master and two 
others asked leave to sleep on board, by which they 

* avoided the hearing the miserable groans and lamen- 
tations of the sick men, who endured (poor souls) 
intolerable torments.' By the 19th, they had dug so 
far do\vn in the hold, that they saw a cask, and some 
water; and five days later succeeded in getting out 
the cask, and found it full of very good beer, * which 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



57 



did much rejoice us all, especially the sick men, not- 
withstanding it did taste a little of bilge- water.' This 
gave them heart to work away at clearing out the ice, 
and stopping the holes which they had cut to sink the 
yesseL By continually pouring hot water down the 
pumps, they melted the ice in them, and got them to 
work. As a drawback to this cheering labour, the 
poor carpenter was now beyond hope of recovery, and 
several of the men in a most miserable state. 

It rained all day long on the 29th, which they hailed 
as a sure sign tnat winter was about to break up. 
The next day, however, was very cold with snow and 
hail, and it pinched the sick men more than at any 
previous time. It is pleasant to learn that they 
remembered it was May-day Eve, so * made a good 
fire, and chose ladies, and did ceremoniously wear 
their names in our caps, endeavouring to revive our- 
selves by any means.' Poor fellows ! much had they 
yet to endure ere they saw Old England again, and 
that was the last May-day Eve some of them were 
ever to spend. 

The Henrietta Maria was amply provisioned on 
sailing with beef, pork, fish, &c., and Captain James 
gives an interesting account how they had dieted 
uiemselves all along. But after Christmas, many of 
the crew were un^le to eat any solid food, and 
subsisted on meal fried in oil, and pease boil^ to a 
soft paste. Water was almost the sole drink through- 
out the winter. It is noteworthy what a few animals 
and birds were trapped and shot ; in all the winter, 
only a few partridges were shot, and about a dozen 
foxes were trapped. One of the latter was taken 
alive, and being killed and boiled, *made broth for 
the weakest of the sick men, who ate the flesh also.' 
Several of the crew were helpless as babes, and all 
suffered more or less from scurvy, which they had no 
remedy against but such herbs and grasses as they 
could picK up. 'I ever feared,' says the narrator, 

* that we should be weakest in the spring, and there- 
fore had reserved a tun of Alicant wine unto this 
time. Of this, by putting seven parts of water to 
one of wine, we made some weak beverage which was 
little better than water, the wine, being frozen, having 
lost its virtue. The w^dter sort had a pint of Alicant 
a day by itself, and a little dram of such poor aqua 
yitsB as we had, every morning, next their heaits.' 
The first few days of the * merry month o' May ' it 
snowed and blew, and was unexpectedly cola, so 
that the sick men got worse and worse, and fainted 
when taken out of bed, and it was *much ado to 
fetch life in thenu' On the 4th, the captain and 
surgeon went forth to try and shoot some wild-fowl 
for the sick men, but they found the birds so 
extremely shy, that * they would not endure to see 
anything move' — a peculiarity we should not have 
expected in such a locality. 

On the 6th, John Wuden, chief-mate, died, and 
was buried in the evening ' in the most Christian 
manner we could, upon the top of a bare hill of sand.' 
On the 9th, l^ey got up five barrels of beef and pork 
from the vessel s nold, and f oimd their four butts of 
beer, and one of cider. These liquids had lain imder 
water all winter, but proved nothing the worse on 
that accoimt, and, devoutly remarks Captain James, 

* God make us ever thankful for the comfort it gave 
TUk' By the 12th, they had cleared all the ice out of 
the hold, and found the spare shoes, the temporary 
loss of which had caused them much suffering. They 
lowered into the hold the cables, and a butt of wine 
which had been on the upper deck all winter, and 
BtUl remained firmly frozen. They began to refit the 
ship, hoping she would yet prove stench and sea- 
worthy — an opinion which tne carpenter strongly 
controv e rted, arguing that in the spot where uie 
reposed, the ice had filled up her leaks, and thus 
k^it oat water for the present, but that when she 
was in motion again, they would doubtless open : in 



fabt, they could even now see through her seams 
between wind and water. 

The 13th being the Sabbath, the diminished crew 
solemnly gave tlumks to God for 'those hopes and 
comforts we daily had,' and on this day they saw 
some bare patches of land where the snow had dis- 
appeared — an exhilarating sight to men in their 
position. They were now chiefly concerned for the 
missing rudder, and the reflection that, as their bark 
lay in the very strength of the tideway, the floating 
ice, whenever it broke up, might complete the des> 
truction of the already shatteml vessel They next 
looked up the rigging, which was much injured by 
the ice, and the cooper prepared casks to help to 
buoy up the ship, if necessary. Some of the men 
were sent forth to try and shoot fowl for the sick 
men, who were worse and worse. 

There is a brief yet interesting entry in the 
captain's journal on the 15th. *I manured a little 
patch of ground that was bare of snow, and sowed 
it with pease, hoping to have some of the herbs 
[leaves] of them shortly to eat, for as yet we can 
find no green thing to comfort us.' The next entry 
is a melancholy one. *The 18th, our carpenter, 
William Cole, died, a man generally bemoaned by us 
all, as much for his innate goodness as for the present 
necessity we had for a man of his profession. He had 
endured a long sickness with much patience, and 
made a very godly end. In the evening, we buried 
him by Mr Warden, accompanied with as many as 
could go, for three more of our principal men lay Uien 
expecting a good Iwur* The poor carpenter, we leam» 
b^ore he became too weak for any exertion, had 
made the frame of the pinnace ready to be bolted 
and treenailed, so that the survivors xnight plank her 
after his death. Thi9 pinnace was twenty-seven feet 
long, ten feet breadth of beam, and five feet of hold ; 
buraen, twelve or fourteen tons. 

A very singular discovery was made on the evening 
of the carpenter's burial It will be recollected that, 
many months previously, the gunner had been com- 
mitted to the sea, in deep water, and a ^ood distance 
from the ship; but the master, retummg on board 
the evening of this 18th of May, discovert what he 
believed to be some portion of the gunner's body 
alongside, just under tne gun-room ports. The next 
day, they dug the corpse out of the ice, the head 
being downwuds, and the heel upwards, * for he had 
but one leg, and the plaster was yet at his wound.' 
The body was perfectly fresh, and time had * wrought 
this only alteration on him, that his flesh would slip 
up and down upon his bones, like a glove on a man s 
hand. In the evening, we buried him by the others.' 
The fact that the dead body of the gunner had drifted 
a great distance, and finally settled and froze fast 
close under the gun-room ports (his special station 
aboard in life), seems a most remarkable incident, 
although Captain James makes no comment what- 
ever upon it. 

*■ The snow,' says Captain James, ' was by this time 
pretty well wasted in the woods ; and we having 
a high tree on the highest place of the island, which 
we (^led our Watch-tree, from the top of it could see 
into the sea, but saw no appearance of breaking-up 
yet. The 20th, being Whitsunday, we sadly solem- 
nised. The next day was the warmest sunsfhiny day 
that came this year. I sent two a-fowlin^; and 
myself, the master, surgeon, and one more, wiiJi our 
pieces and dogs, went into the woods, and wandering 
eight miles from the house, returned comfortless, not 
finding an herb or a leaf that was eatable. Our 
fowlers had as bad success. The snow in the woods 
was partly wasted away, and the ponds were almost 
unthawed, but the sea appeared all firm frozen. The 
snow doth not melt nere with the sun or rain, 
and so make land-floods, as in England, but is exhaled 
up by the sun, and sucked full of holes, like honey- 
combs, so that the land whereon it lies will not be at 



58 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



all wetted. We obserred, also, that let it rain never 
BO much, we had no land-floods after it. The 22d 
we went aboard the ahip, and found that ahe had 
made so much water that it was now risen above 
the ballast, which made us doubt again of her sound- 
ness. We fell to pumping, and pumped her quite 
diy. We had now sometimes sucn hot, glooms that 
we could not endure the sun, and yet in the nidit it 
would freeze vety hard. This unnaturalness <S the 
season tormented our men, that the^ grew worse and 
woise daily. The 23d, our boatswain, a painful man, 
having been long sick, which he had heartily resirted, 
was taken with such a pain in one of his tm^hs, that 
we verily thoucht he would presently have died. He 
kept his bed all day in great extremity ; and it was a 
maxim amone us, tiiat if any one kept his bed two 
days, he coula rise no more. This made eoery man 
strive to keep up for lifeJ 

May 24th proved a very warm sunny day, which 
melted the ice along-shore, and caused the frozen 
surface of the bay to crack all over with a fearful 
sound. In the afternoon, the captain i>erceived that 
the ice ebbed by the ship, and to save her from 
injury, he instantly ordered the master to sink her 
again (in a wa^ previously airanged), and to look out 
tSr the still missing rudder. The latter was found by 
a man pecking up tiie ice, and hoisted on board. The 
drift-ioe meantime rose into high heaps, and they 
were forced to cut away twenty &thoms of cable, 
which was fast frozen in the ice. After awhile, the 
ice settled agam. 'This,* ejaculates the wOTthy 
captain, ' was a joyful day to us all ; and we gave 
God thanks for the hopes we had of it' On the &th, 
the captain and the surgeon went to the bay where 
the seaman, John Barton, had been drowned the 
previous year, bv iucautiously walking over weak ice, 
noping to find his body ; but in this they were dis- 
ap]>ointed. The 29th was Prince Charles's birthday, 
i^ch they loyally kept as a holiday, hoisting their 
colours berth on board the vessel and ashore, and 
named their houses ashore Charles Town, * by con- 
traction Charlton, and the island Charlton Island.* 
Hie next day, the ice had so far melted tiiat the boat 
could freely pass from the shore to the grounded ship. 

We will onoe more let our fine, quaint, old mariner 
speak for himself : * The last of this month [May] we 
found on the beach some vetches appearing out of 
the ground, which I caused to be picked up and 
boiled for our sick men. This day we had filled all 
our rigging and sails, and it beinjo; a very hot day, we 
dried and new made all our fish in the sun, and aired 
all our other provisiona. There was not a man of us 
at present aole to eat of our salt provisions, but 
mysdf and the master of my ship. It may be here 
nmcmbercd that all this wmter we had not been 
troubled with any rheums or phlegmatic diseases. 
June, the four hrst days it md snow, hail, and 
blow very hard, and was so cold that the ponds of 
water did freeze over, and the water in our cans did 
freeze in the very house. Our clothes, also, that 
had been washed and hung out to dry, did not thaw 
all day. The 5th, it continued blowing very hard on 
the broadside of the ship, which did make her to swag 
and wallow in her dock, and much shake her although 
she was sunk ; the ice withal did drive against her, 
and give her many fearful blows. I resolved to 
endeavour to hang the rudder, and when God sent us 
water (notwithstanding the abundance of ice that was 
yet about us), to have her further off. In the 
afternoon, we under-run our small cable to our anchor, 
which lay astern in deep water, and with some diffi- 
culty got it up The 6th, we went about to 

hang our rudder, and our young lustiest men took 
turns to go into the water, and take away the sand ; 
but they were not able to endure the cold of it half a 
quarter of an hour, it was so mortifying, and would 
make them swoon away. We brought it to the stem 
post, but were then fain to give it over, being abie to 



work at it no longer. Then we plugced up the upper 
holes within boaro, and pumped oi^uie water aoam.' 
By the 8th, t^ey had got tne vessel to float at ni^- 
water, though idie was stiU ' docked ' in the sand to 
the depth of four feet. This necessitated faeavinff 
overboard the ballast to lighten her, which they didC 
and also sent all weighty articles ashore. The bene- 
ficial effiaots of the green vetches was now v&cj 
apparent, the feeblest of the sick men beinff 
able to walk about. Twice daily they gatheraa 
the leaves of these herbs, and ate them boiled, with 
the condimento of oil and vineear, or raw with 
bread, according to their individual taster The 
16th June was 'wondrous hot,* so that the men 
bathed in pools on shore, *yet was the water veiy 
cold stilL' By this time, bears, foxes, and iipild-^ywl 
had all disappeared, and immense swarms of anti 
came forth. The air was full of fiies of various kinds, 
and there was an * infinite abundance of bloodthirsty 
mosquitoes,' which grievously tormented the mea 
Frogs also appeared in the ponds, but * we durst aot 
eat them, tney looked so speckled like toada.' A 
French crew would have ventured ! Taking advant- 
age of a high tide on the 17th, they succeeded in 
getting their vessel fairly afloat ; and after they had 
moored her, *went all to prayers, and gave God 
thanks for giving us our ship asain.' They sot her 
off in a happy hour, for it was uie highest tiae th^ 
ever experienced. 

Climbing the Watch-treo on the 19th, the captain 
was delighted to see open '\K'ater for the first txme^ 
which nu^e him reckon the icy sur^u^ would soon 
break up for good and all They were still unable to 
heave the vessel into deep water on account of the ioa 
In the midst of entries about the ice and shippini 
stores, we light on a very ciu*ious passas& ' Whei«as7 
saith the matter-of-fact writer, 'I haid formerly cot 
down a very high tree, and made a cross of it, I now 
fastened to the upper part the pictures of the kutf 
and queen, drawn to the life, and so closely wnnpea 
in double lead, that no weather could hurt thesL 
Betwixt them I affixed his majesty's royal title. .... 
On the onteide of the lead I fastened a aKillmg and a 
sixpence of his majesty's coin; under that we lis- 
tened the king's aims, fairly cut in lead, and under 
that the arms of the city of Bristol ; and this being 
Midsummer Day, we raised it on the top of a bars 
hill, where we had buried our men.' The vessel now 
was for awhile in great danger of being lost l^ ^ 
masses of ice that a hard wmd brought acainst hoc 
By the 25tii, all the provisions were on board, and 
they began to rig the snip for her homeward voyage. 

An extraordinary and unlooked-for accident hap- 
pened at this period, which jeopardised the oaptaiiri 
Ufe. It is worth ffiving in his own words : 

* At ten at night, when it was somewhat dark, I 
took a lance in my hand, and on6 with me a musket 
and some fire, and went to our Wateh-tree, to make a 
fire on the most eminent place of the island, to see if it 
would be answered. Such fires I had formerly made, 
to try if there were any savages on the main[laQd], or 
the islands about us. Had uiere been any, my pur* 
pose was to have gone to them, to get intelligence 
of some Christians, or some ocean-sea thereabouta 
When I came to the tree, I laid down my lance, and 
so did my consort lus musket, and while I climbed 
up to the top of the tree, I ordered him to put fire 
to some low tree thereabouts. He tmadviseoly 
fire to some trees that were to windward, so that 
and all the rest being very dry, took fire like flajc, 
the wind blowing it towards me, I hastened down the 
tree ; but before I vraB half-way down, the &te took 
in the bottom of it, and blazed so fiercely upwards, 
that I was forced to leap off the tree, and witn muck 
ado escaped burning. The moss on the ground was 
as dry as flax, and would run like a train along the 
earth. The musket and lance were both burned. 
My consort at last came to me, and was joyful to 



I 




JOURNAL. 



me^ far he thoaf^ Terily I had been bamed; mad 
thus we returned together, leaving the fire mGreaimg, 
and fltill burning most furiously. At break of dvr 
I went again to the hiUs, from whence I saw it stm 
homing most vehemently both to the westward and 
northward, but could see no answer of il Leaving 
one upon the hills to watch it, I came home imme- 
diately, and made them take down our new suit of 
sails, and carry them to the sea-aide, ready to be oast 
in if occasian were. About noon the wind shifted 
northerly, and our sentinel came running home, 
bringing us word that the fire did follow hurd at his 
heels like a train of powder. It was no need to bid 
ns take down and carry all away to the sea-side. The 
fire came towards us with a most terrible rattling 
noise, bearing a full mile in breadth, and by that time 
we had uncovered our houses, and laid hand on our 
last things, the fire had seised our town, and in a 
trice burned it down to the ground. We lost nothing 
of any value, having brou^t all away into a pLace m 
secunty. Our dogs, in this combustion, would sit 
doi^'n on their tails and howl, and then run into the 
sea ou the shoals, and there stay. This night we lay 
altogether aboard ship, and gave God thanks that 
had shipped us in her again.' 

From this time to the end of June, the now 
inspirited crew worked with a will, jireparinff their 
recovered bark for sea, and their present confidence 
in her sea- worthiness is curiously shewn by the inci- 
dental remark, that they cut to pieces the unuDoework 
of their unfinished ninnaoe for firewood 1 And another 
significant s^ of we increased heartiness of the crew 
is the captain's bitter complaints of the mosquitoes,* 
which, he avows, tormented them worse than ever the 
extreme cold weather had done. To protect them- 
selves from the mosquitoes, they toie up an old ensign, 
and made bags of it to put their heads in ; * yet, i^t- 
withstanding, they would find ways and means to 
sting us.* The ice had now cleared out of the bay, 
and Ciq>tain James gives an intelli^ble and interesting 
explanation of the manner in which ice accumulates 
to a vast thickness. * First,' says he, *■ you must know 
that it does not freeze naturally above six feet, as we 
lound by experience in dignng to our anchors : the 
rest is l^ aocident, snch as uiat ice here which is six 
&thom thick. When the heat increases in May, it 
tiiawB first on the shoals by the shore-side, and then 
the courses of tiie tides do so shake the main ice that 
it cracks and breaks ; and having thus mt room for 
motion, one piece of it runs upon anomer, until it 
oome to a vast thickness. The season in this sandv 
oonntry is most unnatural, for in the da3rtime it will 
be so hot as not to be endured in the sun, and in the 
ni^t again it will freeze an inch thick in the ponds 
and tubs in and about our house, and all this towards 
the end of June.' The first day of July was quite an 
era to the isolated mariners. We shall quote Captain 
James's own simple, touching statement, only remark- 
ing how he and others before him had anticipated the 
Biodem system of arctic explorers in leaving records 
of their progress for the information of any who may 
come after them. 

'July the 1st, being Sunday, we adorned our ship 
the best we could, our ensign on the poop, and the 
king's colours on the main-top. I had provided a 
short narrative of all the passages of our voyage to 
this day, in what state we were at present, and how 
I intended to prosecute the discovery both to the 
westward and the southward, concluding with a 

3 nest to any noble-minded traveller tluit should 
» it down, that if we should perish in the action, 
then to make our endeavours known to our sovereign 
loid the king ; and thus with our arms, drum, and 

* It U a popular error to imagine theae most bloodthirKty 
insects to be only in viproor in tropical latitudcu. The far North 
vwarma with them in summer, and eren in the vicinity of the 
North Capo of Lapland they are ferooioiu, as ve can personally 
attest. 



eoloma, eook and hetUe, we went ashore, and first 
marched up to our eminent cross, adjoining to which 
we had buried our dead fellows, where we read morn- 
ing-prayer, and then walked up and down tLU dinner- 
time. After dinner we walked to tiie highest hills to 
see which way the fire had wasted ; we decried that 
it had consumed to the westward 16 miles at leart^ 
and the whole breadth of the iBluid; it could not 
oome near our cross and dead, bcdng upon a ban 
sandy hill. After evening-prayer, as I widked akog 
the beach, I foimd an herb resembling scurvy-gras% 
which we boiled with our meat at supper: it was 
excellently good, and far better than our vetches. 
After supper we all went to seek and gather more o( 
it, and got about two bushels, which much refreshed 
us ; and now the sun was set, and the boat come ashore 
for us, whereupon we assembled and went up to take 
the last view of our dead.' 

On Monday, the 2d day of July 1632, all prepar»- 
tions being completed for the final depaitnre, the last 
anchor was tripnped, and the crew went to prayen, 
* beseeching God to continue his mercy to us, and 
rendering nim thanks ior having thus restored 



The H^ridia Maria ajpneared l^t, and was yet 
abundantly supplied with the provisions she had 
brought out fnmi England. She was steered wea^ 
ward until they saw the mainland, all ice-bound, and 
then stood off to the northward. On the 4th, the fbff 
was so dense that they could not see a pistol-shcS 
distance, and from that time to the 22d, they beat 
about, not knowing where they were, nor where to 
steer, so beset and baffled were they by foes and ioe. 
The poor old bark struck the ioe daily, and cracked 
as though going to pieces. Sometimes, when they 
had moored her for the night to a great sheet of ioe^ 
storms broke it up, and tli^ were driven to and 
&0, and beat fearfully about; at other times, the 
ice accumulated high as the poop — and a couple of 
centuries ago, vessels were built with marmloua 
lofty poops — and huge masses would strike the 
bilge of the vessel wiu such force as to make her 
lefuL The worst waa, the crew began to grow 
dispirited, and muzmured, saying, writes the intrenid 
old captain, 'that those were haj^y that I had 
buried, and that if they had a thousand pounds, they 
would give it, so they lay fairly by tnem; for we 
(said they) are destined to starve upon a pieoe of ioeu 
I was foioed to endure all with patience, and to oom&stt 
them again when I had them m a better humour.' 

On uie 22d they sighted a oape they had pre- 
viously named after iheir vessel, and hmded on ii^ 
witii their arms and dogs. They set up a cross on an 
eminence, with the royal arms, and those of Bristol, 
and then hunted about a dozen deer, *veiy goodly 
beasts;* but the latter ran away from the dpgi * A 
pleasure.* The dogs were tired out, and the men 
also, for the fleet deer never pomitted them to 
approach within gunshot All they got were a few 
young geese, caught by wading to them in nods, and 
their anger waa excited against the dogs, wnich they 
had k^ all the year at a great inconvenience, ' and 
had pudoned them many misdemeanours (for they 
would steal our meat out of the steeping-tubs), in 
hopes that they might hereafter do us some service, 
and seeing they now did not, and that there was no 
hope they could hereafter, I left them ashore.* They 
made sad to the north-west, and suffered much from 
drift-ice, which made the vessel veiy leaky. The 
danger from ice increased daily, until Augiist 9, so 
that the captain prepared the vessel for si nkin g 
again, if he should deem that extreme measure neces- 
sary to insure her safety. In drifting about, they 
broke their sheet-anchor shank on the rocky bottom, 
being compelled to creep along shore, because the ioe 
was so thick in the offimr. that they could not force a 
way through it. They continued battling with the ice 
for the space of six weeks, for it melted so slowly 
that they could haidly notkie its diminution. In ths 



.1 



60 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



month of August the captain made an experiment on 
the ice, by cutting out pieces two feet square, and 
placing them in the boat, where the sun shone 
strongly on them, and yet they did not melt in less 
than eiffht or ten days. 

By tne 26th of the month, ice appeared in every 
direction, which induced Captain James to hold a 
consultation with the surviving officers as to whether 
they should continue to prosecute the object of their 
voyage — ^the discovery of a North-west Passage — or 
at once to make the best of their way homeward. 
These officers gave their joint opinions in a wordy 
written document, which runs up to ' seventhly and 
lastly,' containing many weighty reasons for abandon- 
ing the search. Captain James admits that he could 
not controvert their arguments, ' wherefore,* says he, 
' with a sorrowful heart, God knows, I consented that 
the helm should be borne up, and a course shaped 
for England, well hoping that his majesty would 
graciously censure [judge] my endeavours, and pardon 
my return, although we have not discovered populous 
kingdoms, and taken special notice of their magnifi- 
cence, power, and policies, brought samples of their 
riches and commodities, pryed into the mysteries of 
their traffic, nor made any great fight against the 
enemies of God and our nation.' Cm that night it 
snowed heavily, and was bitterly cold, so that the 
rigging and sails were frozen. They did not get clear 
of the strait until the 8th of September, when they 
experienced such a heavy sea that they expected the 
masts would be rolled overboard, and the sbip leaked 
very much, requiring pumping every half -hour, and 
her top seams were so open that the berths were 
drenched. But this day brought its peculiai* comforts, 
for they saw ice for the last time, and had a favour- 
able wind. * For England ho ! * was now their cry. 

The patient, much-enduring captain gives at length 
his reasons for finally coming to the conclusion ^at 
no North-west Passage exists. Captain MHDlure, and 
Franklin himself, solved the problem in the affirma- 
tive, yet the following remark of our ancient mariner 
is as iLoteworthy and applicable now, as on the day 
when it was written. Supposing, he argues, that, 
after all, there is a passage, ships cannot * endure the 
ice without extraordimuy danger. Moreover, 1000 
leagues is sooner, and with more safety, sailed to the 
southward, and about the Cape of Good Hope, where 
the winds are constant, than 100 in these seas, where 

Sou must daily run the hazard of losing ship and 
ves; neither is comfort for the sick, nor refreshment 
for your men, to be had in these parts.' 

The Henrietta Maria arrived, after a stormy pas- 
sage, at Bristol, October 22, 1632, having been 
absent nearly eighteen months. When she was 
brought into harbour, and careened, it was found 
that fourteen feet of her keel, and much of her 
sheathing, was carried away, and that many of her 
timbers were fractured, and her bows broken; and 
that the rocks had cut her bottom all over ; * so that 
it was miraculous ' for her to have brought them safe 
home again. It is pleasing to learn that in the spirit 
of manly piety which haid distingui^ed the crew 
throughout the voyage, they all, on landing at Bristol, 
went to church, and devoutly returned thanks to the 
Almighty for preserving wem through so many 
dangers. There is a touch of real pathos in the 
concluding words of the captain. * I very well know,' 
saith he, * that what I have written will never dis- 
courage any noble spirit that is minded to bring this 
so long tried action [the search] to perfection, to 
whose aesigns I wish a happy success. Now, although 
I have spent some years of my ripest age in procur- 
ing vain intelligence from foreign nations, and have 
travelled to divers honourable and learned persons of 
this kingdom for their instructions ; have bought up 
whatever I could find in print or manuscript, and 
what plan or paper soever conducing to this business, 
that poosibly I could procure, and have spent above 



L.200 of my own money ; yet I repent not, but take i 
a great deal of comfort and joy that I am able to 
give a reasonable account of those parts of the world, 
which heretofore I was not so well satisfied in.' 
Valiant heart, farewell ! 



A MIDDY'S DIARY. 

We wonder whether, among all the Philosophen^ 
Divines, and even those Political Economists i^no can 
calculate happiness to the hairsbreadth, whether 
there is any who enjoys life so completely as a mid- 
shipman in her Majesty's navy. His existence seems 
to be liable to none of those ills that other flesh is 
heir to ; while his peculiar griefs, such as the beinf 
cut down in his hammock, or the impossibility (2 
getting his things washed very regularly, appear to 
his indomitable, if somewhat invert^ mind, m 
capital jokes. He fears nobody, not even his captaist 
who is always spoken of in that trap for cockioache8» 
the midshipmen's berth, by some designation Ion 
respectful than familiar ; he hates nobody, except^ 
perhaps, the lieutenant of his watch, whom, how- 
ever, ne forgives at once upon his own promotion; 
and he loves every human being that wears a petti- 
coat, including a good many met with in his outlandish 
voyages who wear no such thing. His very language 
is a tongue of itself, compoimded of sea-terms and 
school- taSi, made agreeable, if not intelligible, by the 
healthiest laughter and the most facetious emphask. 
In his becommg cap and well-looking uniform, like 
Cupid in the gmse of Mars, no female heart can lesiat 
him ; and he is permitted a greater freedom with ths 
fair sex, on account, as they say, of his charming 
simplicity, than any other male creature extant. For 
our own parts — though this may arise from jeidousy — 
we are not so perfectly satisfied about his simplicify, 
but of his canaour and openness there can be no doiwt 
whatever. He hesitates not to describe all TmiTiVifw^ 
who do not suit his marine fancy, from bishops down- 
ward, as * lubbers' or * swabs,' while those he approves 
of receive his eoually peculiar eulogiuma. 

A Cruise in tne Pactjic* ia a curious and noteworthy 
example of midshipmen's literature. Edited by a 
captain, it yet bears the most evident traces of having 
been written by one of his ' young gentlemen,' and is 
as different from any of the ordinary Voyages and 
Travels which invade us at this season, as donkey- 
racing from land-surveying. Instead of the grave 
accounts of exports and imports, of population, crime, 
and public edifices, which the man who travels with 
an eye to Paternoster Row presents us with, oni 
midshipman regards the whole of the uncivilised 
globe, mcluding the island of Juan Fernandez, frooi 
what may be called the picnic point of view — ^with 
respect, tnat is, to its capabilities for rollicking enj(^- 
ment. Lovely women, to whom crinoline and bash- 
fulness are alike unknown, and whose decorations are 
confined to a human thigh-bone worn in their badL- 
hair ; gentlemen whose native hideousness ia not 
much redeemed by the most profuse tattooing ; tigen 
and armadillos; the Southern Cross, mosquitoes, 
niggers, and tropical vegetation — are the ordinaiy 
materials out of which our author makes two by no 
means ordinary volumes. If his animal spirits occa- 
sionally * carry him away,' they at least carry the 
reader along with them ; while they lend a vigour to 
his descriptions which many a better writer fails to 
impart to far more moving incidents. What a picture 
is nere presented to us of the method of locomotion 
used in the streets of Rio ! The traveller gets into a 
nondescript sort of omnibus, which in that part of the 
world is entitled a gondola, with no greater reason, 
for all that appears, than we should have for calling 
an Irish car a pinnace. 



* A Cruue in th« Pacific. From the Log of a NtuHtl Qffuer, ' 
Edited by Captain Fenton Aylmer. Hurst and BIack«tt. J 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



61 



*A gondola! Shades of Venice, how ye would 
have stared ! Imagine an overgrown lumbering omni- 
buB dragged along at a floundering zallop by four 
demons of mules, who every now ana then take it all 
their own way, and dash down a narrow street at full 
speed, then stand stock-still at the foot of a hill, only 
replying to the whips, oaths, and persuasion of the 
driver and bystanders by angry squeals, bites at each 
other, and wicked kicks—pleasant, is it not ? — ^particu- 
larly if you are, aa I was, crammed half-way up the side 
with a fat priest (yery hot and odoriferous) on one 
side ; and an old woman in a terrible fright, and giving 
yent to her feelings by pinching me and saying her 
prayers, on the other; wmle the rest of the passengers, 
my friend among the number, sat perfectly indifferent 
as to whether we proceeded or were turned over, no 
one appearing to dream of such a thing as lightening 
the 'bus. There we remained till the driver bribed 
some slayes into giving us a long and strong push, 
when, with a proportionate number of shouts and 
lashes, off we went, and finally were deposited at our 
destination.' 

Omnibuses are not the only things which are 
known by different names in Kio frran those they 
go iindcr elsewhere. Arterial and yenous drainage 
are still in their infanc^^r in that fairy city, and its 
spicy gales are sometimes laden with other than 
Arabian odours. 'Before us ^lows the Southern 
Cross ; while Orion, familiar with old home-scenes, 
just peeps over the horizon to remind us of other 
Isolds. Thousands of new and bright constellations 
rem the marvellous blue sky, which here, even in 
the deepest night, is blue ; while on sails Diana in 
her halo of light, paving silvery roads over the heav- 
ing bay, the long booming dash and ripple of whose 
waves steal over the listener's senses like the yoice 
of song ; while now and then the sound of the harp or 
piano is mingled with the air, or the distant peal of 
evening-service in some of the numerous churches. 
A fresn earthy perfume pervades the air, with 
now and then uie sweet breath of jasmine or roses. 
You stand enchanted. Suddenly a cry of " 'Kgers!" is 
uttered. New-comers are thunders^ck. "ngers in 
Bio! Impossible — ^no one will believe it. "Then 
stay and lookout!" shouts an old hand as he closes 
the windows, and leayes you eagerly watching, half 
fancying they are hoaxing you. A moment more, 
and you, too, rush franticly at the window, hammer- 
ing with one hand for admittance, while the other is 
busily grasping your nasal organ, lucky if you can 
escape without parting with your dinner. Then 
amidst roars of laughter, as ^ou inhale £au-de- 
Cologne, cigars, anytning one is used to, you are 
mformed you have smelt the Rio "tigers," finding, on 
examination, that this is the local name for the shives 
employed in oonyejriug the contents of what would in 
other plxu^es be confined in a sewer, to the beach, 
where the sea carries all away.' 

Our author does not linger long in any place, but 
literally wanders * on from island unto island at the 
gateways of the day,' going ashore on leave of greater 
or less length wherever he can. Eight-and-forty hours 
were thus permitted to him to explore the solitary 
home of Rooinson Crusoe, where the goats — ^notwith- 
standing what Defoe tells us — ^were aosolutely uneat- 
Able, even when you called it lamb, and ate it with 
mint-sauce. ' The quantity of mint growing wild is 
Biarvellous ; whole acres are covered with it, and as 
the breeze passes over, the perfume is wafted miles 
out to sea. Most of the ships carry off large quanti- 
ties to dry, and make into tea, as an anti-scon>utic ; 
our men tried it, but owing to the comparative short- 
ness of the voyage to Piteaim's, they did not make 
much use of it, except to drown the smell of fish, with 
which the whole ship was pervaded, while enormous 
cray-fiah walked about in all directions, and lasted 
us until within a couple of days of our arrival at 
our next place of refreshment.' 



At Otaheite, our middy finds much favour with 
Queen Pomare, a motherly yet majestic female, with 
her hair wreathed with blossoms from the arrowroot- 
tree, whose husband is a mere nonentity, who wiU 
wear a cocked-hat upon all occasions, and whose 
eldest son is a confirmed drunkard. She came on 
board our author's ship, and insisted upon her young 
favourite forming one of t^e rubber at whist whi^ 
was got up for her majesty on the quarter-deck. 
She sSbo expressed her royal opinion, that he would be 
y^y handsome when his whiskers ^w. 

The midshipman's famous verdict upon a savage 
people of ' manners none, customs disgusting,' does not 
hold good in respect to the Feejee islanders. Although 
clothmg is almost unknown among them, etiquette is 
in the nillest vigour. One of the strongest examples 
of this is the * bale mari,' by which it is enacted that 
if the master makes a false step and tumbles down, 
the servants must do likewise. * The great men were 
particularly fond of coming on board and dining with 
us ; and as many of them could get on pretty well 
with a sort of broken English, and, moreover, were 
very jolly fellows, alwa3rs giving us something to 
laugh at in their queer ways and blunders, we were 
seldom a day without one or two. One old gentle- 
man came pretty often ; he was, I suppose, a great 
swell among the Feejeeans, as he brought a couple 
of servants with him on every occasion. It so hap- 
pened one day when he was dining with us we had 
champagne ; our friend took to it kindly, imbibing 
glass after glass with a gusto it did one's heart good 
to see. The result may be imagined; he got very 
much excited, yolunteered a dance, &c., and finally, 
when a party of us who were going ashore landed 
him, he would hear of nothing but our accom- 
panying him home. Nothing loth to see the end, 
three of us went, and I certainly never regretted it, 
or laughed so much in my life. We had not gone 
two hundred yards, when his highness capsized and 
came down with a nm head foremost. What was 
our astonishment when down went the two followers 
also inprecisely the same manner I Then up staggered 
the chief — ditto his servants. A few steps further on, 
up went the old fellow's toes, and this time he lit 
upon his beam-end. It was ditto with the followers 
too; and we, after assisting the dignitary to rise, 
kept half an eye behind, watohing the movements 
gomg on, expecting the Jacks had been plying 
the servants with rum ; but no — they rose with the 
greatest gravity, and marched on as steady as grena- 
diers, only going down as often as their master came 
to grief, ^ow I began to see the real state of the 
case, and every muscle in my face ached, the day 
after, with the constant roar of laughter we had 
kept up during our wonderful progress. After 
sundry falls and risings again, the chief subsided into 
a slignt hollow, out of whidi he made one or two 
efforts to rise; then quietly crossing his legs, and 
smiling benignly, he began reciting a long story, 
containing, 1 have no doubt, the narrative of the 
mighty deeds he had done. We watched him a short 
time, and then, tired of laughing, wished him good- 
night The last thing we saw, on looking back, was 
the recumbent forms of master and men.' 

We not only envy our young author his varied 
experiences and the wonderful good spirits that 
enabled him to enjoy them so thoroughly, but the 
honest hearty pathos that now and ti^en exhibits 
itself in his little volumes, and of which he does not 
seem at all ashamed : in later life, it is too probable he 
will hesitate to pen such a passage as the following 
upon tiiiose sacred pleasures to the trayeller — letters 
from home : * It is a great thing getting a bundle of 
home-letters, some from anxious, patient papas, with 
directions how much money you can draw, a terrible 
account of an outfitting-bill he knew nothing of, 
winding up with a capital nm with Lord '" 



s 



hounds, or a glorious day's fishing. The dear old 



CHAMBERS'S JOURITAL. 



lady's, too, with tender advice to keep your feet warm, 
take care ol the dews, be sure to have the cholera 
nuxtare always at hand, and a postscript with some 
more advice, which sets your eyes watering, and 
makes yon say, **Dear mother!" to yonrsell Then 
come more letters from college and school, such 
fan to read and recount to your messmates. Of course, 
your budget lasts a week ; every one has something 
to tell ; and every one listens, laughs, and rejoices as 
warmly as if he knew each memmr of ytmr family. 
There is another sort of letter I have not yet 
mentioned, partly because it is private property, and 
partly because it is kept quietly outtoned up in your 
pocket-book, and read whenever you can steal a quiet 
moment. Sometinies the letter is from a sister, 
detuling as tenderly and lovingly as only a sister can, 
-tiie tiioughts, actions, and general conduct of some 
one with whom vou spent most of your last leave, 
and who, after joking and laughing the months away, 
suddenly got very grave when you said, " Good-bye," 
and left a photograph of trembUng lips and dewy eyes 
deq)ly engraven on your heart. Of course you 
cannot write to her ; her mamma or aunt make dis- 
agreeable innuendos about sailors, and call midship- 
men bovs ; so your dear sister, who knows all about 
it, comforts your heart and somebody else's^ Heigh- 
ho! is not this often the way, messmates? Few of 
us are sure of setting the honest letter from the 
darling franked by the jovial old squire, or a tender 
message added by the favouring mother; such is a 
rare blessing; and perhaps it is better, after idl, that 
a sailor shoidd sail fancy-free, leave his tenderest 
affections with those nearest by right, and never 
change nor mistake, and wait for the blL3s of a wife 
and wife's love imtil he need not be torn away for 
long years of restlessness and suspense.' 

^ere must be some steriing stuff in a lad who can 
write as naturally as this, fi the occasion presents 
itself, we have little doubt that his name will oe soon 
found in dispatche& In the meantime, let us hope 
that his chrysalis state of mate may be as brief as 
possible ; and that within a very little, a full-blown 
lieutenant, with those whiskers whose growth was 
the subject of congratulation from her majesty of 
Otaheite, he may be entitled to speak with the usual 
complacency of his present companions of the mid- 
shipmen's berth as * the yoimgsters.' 



THE MONTH: 

SCIENCE AND AETS. 

Thb year opens with renewed conviction to many 
minds, that the accomplishment of many good works, 
though long desired, still remains to be striven ^ter 
by philosoimers and savants. The lamentable loss of 
life by the fearful colliery explosion at Bisca, and at 
Hetton, indicates very emphatically what one of the 
first of tiiese much-desired good works should be — the 
discovery or application of a method by which mining 
operations may be carried on free from the terrible 
nsk to which miners are now subject. We cannot 
believe that Science has come to the end of her skill 
in this matter: Mr Gassiot's experiments, shewn 
before the Royal Society, demonstrate that a bril- 
liant electric hght is producible within a glass ^obe 
or cylinder from which the surrounding atmosphere 
is perfectly excluded. May not this i^t be accepted 
as proof that some safe application of the electric ught 
is x>oa8i1^l6> e'v^cn in the most dangerous workings? 
Moreover, something was said a few years ago about 
a means for burning the choke-damp as fast as it 
accunralated, whereby explomons would become impos- 
sible. Has this notion ever been put into practice ? 
Let us hope that 1861 will not pass away wiuiout the 
removal of what may be regarded as a reproach on 
our national character : the oft recurring sacrifice of 
human life in the pursuits of industry. 



We want pure eas to bum in oar houses ; i^e want 
the purest of drinking-water ; we want a way to save 
the thousands of tons of good fuel which are now 
smoked off to waste in the air; we want a simpla 
and effectual method of ventUataon applicable to all 
aorta of buildings; we want a sure way of passing 
signals to the guard of a railway^-train Tvnile m 
motion, whereby passengers may give timely warn- 
ing of fire, breakage of wheels, and the like; 
we want improved means of vehicular locomo* 
tion in streets which shall entirely prevent tlie 
numerous fatal accidents which now occur every 
year in London and other large towns of busy traffic. 
Is it not an opprobrium to our civilisation to be able 
to cross a street only with risk of life? We want 
wider applications of the electric telegraj^ in lai^ 
towns, as well as to all parts of the r^lm, for social 
as well as commercial purposes. The District Tde- 
graph, wherever available in London, is found to be 
singularly useful A friend of ours who left his home 
in Islington one morning with anticijiationB of a 
supper-party in the evening, discovering at 4 p.il 
that his exjyected guests would not be able to 
appear, immediately flashed the infonnation to his 
wile, and thus, by a payment of fourpence, saved 
materfamilias from useless trouble. We could fill 
a column with desiderata ; but if 1861 should accom- 
phsh those we have pointed out in addition to its 
promised Great Exhibition, and the realisation of the 
superb scheme of what is now the Koyal Horticultursl 
Society, it will be a year exceedingly memorable. 

So far as gas is concerned, there is prospect of relief 
from those impurities which at present render the 
brilliant light so prejudicial in a dwelling-house. A 
paper by uie Rev. W. R. Bowditch, read before the 
itoyal Society, describes a series of experiments under- 
taken for the discoveiy of a method of purification, 
and the results. Heated clay appears to be a valuable 
purifier, as it removes many injurious products from 
the gas ; but the greatest success is obtained by lime 
at about a temperature of 108 degrees, as it com- 
pletely neutralises the bisulphide of carbon which, 
with another sulphurous product, are felt so oppres- 
sively in the atmosphere of a room where gas has 
been burning a few hours. Seeing that, generally 
speaking, 200 grains of sulphur are given off oy eveiy 
thousand feet of gas consumed, the oppressiv^ieaB 
complained of is not to be wondered at, nor that 
gildmg and the binding of books are spoiled. No 
means were known by which this sulphur could be 
got rid of, and even the ablest chemists regarded it 
as an inevitable eviL But Mr Bowditch, to whom 
gas-makers are indebted for the introduction of day 
as a purifier, animated by his success, made further 
experiments, and found, as above stated, the desired 
means of purification in lime, and without any loss of 
h^ht-giving constituents from the gas. When once 
his process shall have come into general use, some of 
the objections now made to the lighting of picture- 
galleries, museums, and hbraries by gas will no longer 
apply. We assist the more willingly in making ^is 
subject known, as it is one of mucn imx)ortance from 
the domestic as well as the commercial point of view. 
Some readers will perhaps take interest in the fact, 
that the clay used in the purifying , is afterwards 
valuable as a fertiliser. 

A hajipy result of the attempt made to ^n.mi1ii^ri«ft 
seaside-folk with a scientific iastrument deserves 
notice. The fishermen of Cullercoats, one of the 
villages where a barometer was set up at the cost of 
the Duke of Northumberland, observing a fall of the 
mercury during their preparations for sea, put off 
their departure, and thus saved themselves from a 
gale, which came on a few hours later. — An appara- 
tus has been invented for pumping a leaky ship : a 
two-bladed screw, placed in the water behind the 
stem, turns a rod and crank shaft, which keep the 
pump working; and the faster the vessel suls, the 



il 



!i 



CHAMBERS'S JOCTRNAL. 



ea 



more water will be pumped out, and without £attflnn 
to tiiie crew. — An American inyentor now Irauda 
boats hj machinery, and turns out a cutter 36 feet 
long, in ten. hoars ; a task thftt, by the usual method, 
takes eight days. — ^And now the much-talked of iron 
frigate Warrior is fturly launched, the largest ship in 
the world except the OrecU EaMern ; and by and by 
we shall know whether a yessel cased in ponderous 
armour is, like the iron-clad kni^ts of the olden time, 
too heavy to be useful 

Mr David Forbes, brother of the late Professor 
Edward Forbes, has read a paper before the G^eo- 
logical Society, jnving the results of his geological 
expknations of Bolivia and Southern Peru, where he 
has spent some years, and met with much adventure. 
Examination of the Peruvian coast leads him to the 
conclusion, that it has undergone no elevation since 
the Spiuiish Conquest, althou^ along the neighbour- 
ing coast of ChiB a remarkable uplwaval has taken 
place. The saline formations extend over 550 miles 
of the rainless r^on, and contain prodigious quan- 
tities of nitrate of soda — a valuable article in com- 
merce, besides considerable deposits of borate of lime. 
Among the fossils brought home by Mr Forbes are 
certain Silurian species, which were collected on the 
mountains at great heights above the sea ; and geolo- 
gists are much interested in the fact, that perhaps a 
hundred thousand square miles of the great chain of 
the Cordilleras are now known to comprise Silurian 
rocks, which yield fossils even at a height of 20,000 
feet Notwithstanding the risks, and wounds received 
during revolutionary contests, Mr Forbes intends 
returning to Bolivia to resume his explorations, and 
to climb, if possible, to the highest of the mountain 
summits. — The iron-sand, whicn covers many miles of 
country in New Zealand, to the great annoyance of 
settlers in windy weather, is likely to become a con- 
siderable source (^ profit; for analysis of samples 
brought to England shews it to be composed of a per- 
oxide of iron, with 12 per cent, of titanium — a rare 
combination. It is, moreover, readily convertible into 
steel of singularly good quality ; and sundry manu- 
factured specimens which have been put to the test 
as razor-blades, and other cutting instruments, shew 
proof of a keen edge, a surface less easilv tarnished 
than that of ordinary steel, and unusual hardness. 
Hence, in their so-caUed sand, which is attracted as 
readily as steel-filings by the mamet, we may believe 
that the New Zealand colonists have a metalliferous 
resource valuable to them as gold-fields; that is, 
should * Taram^ steeT maintain its present reputation 
among manufacturers. — In a communication to the 
€reological Society of Dublin, Mr Alphonse Gages 
announces his discovery of the structure of certain 
mineral substances : he immersed a small piece of 
fibrous dolomite in dilute sulphuric acid, ana found, 
at the end of some days, that certain parts were dis- 
solved out, leaving only a skeleton form. In other 
instances, he finos one skeleton . superposed on 
another ; and he is now trying to discover tne origin 
of serpentine, which is composed, perhaps, of three 
skeletons, whose interstices are ^ed up by another 
substance. 

The Geographical Society, desirous to promote 
African discovery, are raising a subscription of L.2000 
wherewith to equip Mr Petherick for another explor- 
ation towards the head-waters of the Nila — From 
Australia the news of Mr Sturt*s expedition to 
explore the interior has surprised alike colonists and 

Geographers ; for instead of the vast traditionary 
es^ the scorching wilderness, and source of the 
suffocating * brickfieiders,' he found a fertile and 
well-wat^ed country, suited for pastoral purposes. 
At the last accounts, he had returned to the settle- 
memts to report progress and replenish his supplies, 
bat intended to repeat his endeavour to solve the 
nyiterj of tibte unknown interior. The happiest dis- 
covery he could make would be a chain of monntains, 



but huling that, it is gratifying to know that grassy 
plains ana woods exist where, according to t£eory, 
nothing was to be met with but IxuTen sand. 

Not fewer than 500 pages of the last published 
volume of Mimoirea of the Academy of Sciences at 
Paris are filled with a dissertation on the silkwonn 
disease, comprising facte observed up to the latest 
available period in 1859. The history and phenomena 
of the disease are set forth, the causes and means of 
cure are sought out and explained; and the prims 
conclusion is, that the best remedy oonsiste in, 
hy^^ienio means, and that the visitation is temporary 
in ite nature. The importance of this question to our 
neighbours may be inferred from the fact, that in 1853 
Fnmce raised 26,000,000 kilogrammes of cocoons, 
worth 130,000,000 francs ; and that, owing to the pro- 
gress of the disease year by year, the quantity was less 
m 1856 by 7,500,000 kilogrammesL As we mentioned 
some time since, attempte have been made to intro- 
duce new species of silkworms, among which the 
most succesuul is the Bomipe arrmdia,we silkworm 
which feeds on the Palma CknaUy or castor^oil plant. 
It was brought first from China about four j'ears 
ago ; was reiutKl and propagated at Turin ; has been 
found to thrive in Algieria, and to survive the winter 
of the south of Francs; and is, besides, remarkably 
productive, for, to quote Professor Milne-Edwards, it 
yields six or seven broods within a year. It is of the 
silk of this worm that India liMi^lrAiY»>iiftfe^ aiiQ 
mada 

Great surprise was manifested a short time since at 
a statement laid before the Soci€t6 d^Ebcouragemenl^ 
concerning the enormous quantity of albumen con- 
sumed b^ the dyers of cotton-printe in tiie manu&u> 
turing districte of Francs; for it was shewn that 
33,000,000 of egss were requirsd every 3rear to supply 
the demand; me quantii^ {noduced being 125,006 
kilogrammes, and each lulogramme worth twelve 
francs. The yolks of all these egrai were for the most 
part wasted,' until it was found 'uiat they were con- 
vertible into soap ; but even then, it was felt that to 
consume the eggs as food would be better than 
employing them in the preparation of mordants. 
There is no fear of lack of customers while F^n^«h 
porte are open for all that France can send. ^^Ths 
question would be solved if an artificial albumen 
could be produced from some substance not of prime 
importance as an aliment \ and for some time past the 
Soci6td Industrielle of Mulhausen has ofiiered a prize 
of 17«500 francs for the discovery of a material which 
will not require the use of eggs. The same problem 
has been seriously studied at Manchester, and not 
fruitlessly ; and we now see that the Abb6 Moigno 
announces in his weekly journal, a discovery made by 
M Hannon, a miller and oaker, that the waste gluten 
of starch-factories yields the substitute for albumen 
which has been so long desired. "By a process of 
fermentetion, and subsequent drying m moulds, and 
in a stove, with certain precautions, cakes are pro- 
duced of what the inventor caJls * ^buminoid glue,' 
which is applicable to other uses as well as those of 
the dyer: it answers as a glue for carpenters and 
cabinet-makers, for workers in leather, pamper, and 
pasteboard, for menders of glass, porcelam crystals, 
shells, and so forth, for clarifiers of beer, for the 
finishers of silk and woollen goods, and in the fabrica- 
tion of gums ; and witii all ^is utolity ite price is but 
one-fourth that of the albumen of eggs. 

A pamphlet lately published under the titie. Why 
the Shoe Frndiea^ deserves a word of notice here, and 
claims the attexition of aU who wear shoes, because 
of the importance of ite subject. It is a translation 
of Dr Hermann Meyer's short treatise on the best 
form of shoe for the human foot, regarded from the 
anatomical point of view ; the which point, we take 
leave to say, is the primary one in the question. Let 
those who fear to wear a comfortable shoe lest 
their iset should be thought ' big,* read Dr Meyer's 



64 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



explanations and examine his engrayings, and they will 
Bee the evil and sometimes fatal consequences of deny- 
ing fair-play to the six-and-twenty bones of the foot. 
They will see such deformities wrought by fashion, 
that leave us but little to boast of in the treatment 
of our feet over the much-wondered-at ladies of China. 
They will learn what are the true principles on which 
the foot-covering should be shaped, and many a 
mother will perhaps rejoice that they have been saved 
from the cruelty of distorting their infants* feet. It 
is scarcely possible to convey the description without 
the aid of engravings; but the essential particulars 
are that, in forming the sole, a straight une drawn 
from ti^e ball of the great toe — the toe being in its 
natural position — shall pass exactly through the 
centre of the heel ; that the edge of the sole uiall be 
straight bIous its inner side frt>m its foremost extremity 
to the base of the great toe ; and that none but what 
are called 'rights and lefts' should be worn. We 
recommend penisal of the pamphlet to all concerned — 
and they are not few ; and especially to shoemakers, 
who are commonly so apt to be dogmatic, and fancy 
tiiey have nothing to learn, and who torture their 
customers without remorse. 

Of the gorgeous Christmas-books, the perfection of 
whose type, mustrations, and binding seems to merit 
a notice m this our record of the Arts as well as the 
Sciences, these two are especially commendable — ^the 
new edition of the Lyra Cfermanka (Longmans) and 
the Ore-seeker (Macnullan). The h3rmns contained 
in the former were perhaps some of the firsl compo- 
sitions produced in types at the dawn of printing, 
and the Dook before us is probably the best specimen 
of modem art The means employed are nearly the 
same, both being the production of the hand-press ; 
but how wide the difference between the black- 
letter folio and the result which is now attained, itself 
a record of the progress of civilisation ! The iUus- 
trations, which are engraved under the superintend- 
ence of John Lei^hton, F.R.S., are as excellent and 
appropriate totheir subjects as can be conceived. The 
Ore-seeker is aJso an admirably executed volume, 
concerning whose charming stoiy and beautiful illus- 
trations &e only thing to be regretted is, that the 
author and artist are both anonymous. 



LOST MSN. 

In a Yczy interesting paper, pablished in the Medical 
Times and Oaaette^ Dr Conolly says : ' The diversities of 
life in London furnished occasional cases to Hanvell 
scarcely to be met with in asylums remoter from the 
capital — the cases of men more or less educated, and who, 
from some imperfection of mind or infirmity of dispo- 
sition, had fallen out of their own rank in lUe, and, by 
slow degrees, had sunk into destitution ; or, after long 
contention with the troubled currents of town existence, 
were wrecked and cast ashore like things unregarded 
and valueless. Ingenious and ambitious men, not very 
systematically educated ; or men of imagination and feel- 
ing, but wanting self-government ; and also some who 
had studied at the universities and brought away some 
fragments of learning, and perhaps a cultivated taste, but 
no solid acquirement — sometimes appeared among the new 
arrivals from the workhouses, where misery had made 
them acquainted with strange bedfellows. The situation 
of men of this kind, when first shut up with pauper 
lunatics, clothed like them, taking their meals with them, 
conforming to the general hours of rising and going to 
bed, often very different from those to which they have 
been accustomed, could not he regarded without a sort of 
commiseration. A full sense of the condition to which 
they have sunk becomes to some of them then only a 
reality. The illusions kept up by various speculative 
undertakings, or by wild companions, or by successive 
vicious stimulants, are suddenly extinguished, and thoughts 
of^ other days, when they were younger and full of pro- 
mise and of hope, revert to them painfully, after long 



foxigetfulness of what dissipation, and idlenesB^ and achemcs 
innumerable seemed to have obliterated from their mind. 
Some of the unfortunate men thus situated — ^for women 
seemed less conscious of their position in 804^ eircom- 
stances — became desponding and disposed to snicnde ; hot 
the greater part sustained themselves with fortitude. Is 
reality, the life they entered upon on becoming paticnti 
had many compensationa There were ready for them oa 
arrival a supper of bread and cheese, with wholesome beer ; 
no ardent spirite could be obtained, but then no night- 
wanderings awaited them. There was the comfort of a 
clean bed. The morning light no longer awoke them to t 
sense of uncertainty of breakfast and sufficient food fx 
the day. They walked out in pleasant grounds ; they had 
an ample and wholesome daily dinner ; and iJiey heard 
simple and beautiful prayers read in the chapel, ol wYoA. 
the words had once been familiar to their ears. Kor 
were minor consolations wanting. They generally excited 
sympathy in the store-room and in the shops of the work- 
men ; and slight additions to the fashion of the asylum 
clothing, a book now and then, and pens, and ink, and 
paper, filled up the measure of their unwonted contont.' 

THE TWO YEARS. 

Thx summerless Old Year is dead — 

Gk>ne, gone for evermore ; 
Many a storm of tears he shed ; 

His face but few smiles wore. 

He struck the fanner*s heart with fear. 

He thundered o'er the wheat, 
And trod the spiral golden ear 

Down quivering at his feet. 

He rent the blushing rose's breast. 

Tore green leaves from the tree, 
And swamped the early skylarks nest 

Out on the windy lea. 

He swelled the streamlet o'er the mead, 

Above the daisy's frill, 
And the wind-wrinkled mirror spread 

From island-hill to hill. 

But his strange pranks are ended now ; 

He 's left his stormy throne ; 
And who will grieve, or care to know 

Where the old rebel's gone ? 

New Year ! we will have faith in thee. 

Bring us sweet spring-tide hours ; 
Baptize with beauty grass and tree ; 

Breathe softly on the flowers. 

Bring us a summer warm and bright, 

With sweetest smiles from God, 
And happy flowers, enrobed with light. 

To beautify the sod. 

Bring us a glorious autumn, rich 

With golden orchard-store ; 
And that unanxious calmness which 

We 've felt so oft before. 

Bring us a poor man's winter mild ; 

For the storms pinch him sore, 
Who cannot bar a winter wild 

Outside a golden door. 

Bring us these God-gifts ; and when thou 

GJently resign' st thy breath, 
We'll chant a requiem sweet and low, 

In honour of thy death. J. B. 



Printed and Published by W. & R Chambers, 47 P*ter* 
noster Row, London, and 339 High Street, Edinburgh. 
Also sold by William Bobertson, 23 Upper Saokvillo 
Street, Dublin, and all Booksellers. 



S titntt VLXiln ^ris. 



CONDUCTED BY WILLIAM AND ROBERT CHAMBERS. 



No. 370. 



SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 2, 1861. 



Price l^d. 



SOUTH CAROLINA- 
WHILE Italy attracts our attention on one hand by 
the determination of its long severed states to unity, 
and while we know that such is the process by which 
both Britain and France have acquired their present 
importance, we are startled in another direction by a 
cry as if a great realm were about to be violently 
rent asunder. The Southern States of America, indig- 
nant at the election of an anti-slavery candidate tp 
the four-years' tenure of the office of President, 
threaten to sever themselves from the rest, as if imion 
were no longer to be endured. In this headlong 
movement, South Carolina takes the lead. 

It must be obvious that, in point of extent and 
population, this state has no true pretensions to 
leadership. Of all the thirty-three republics clustered 
together in North America, she is one of the smallest, 
her area comprising only .^,000 square miles. Her 
population amounts to 700,000, of which number con- 
siderably more than half are of negro descent, the 
slaves alone outnumbering the whites by 100,000 per- 
sons, without reckoning the free blacks. The number 
of these has been estimated at 10,000 souls, a number 
imusually small for a territory so largely peopled by 
the coloured race ; but few as they are, they cause an 
amount of iU-feeling, jealousy, and turmoil which it is 
happily difficult for an untravelled Englishman to 
gauge or appreciate. South Carolina, which, accord- 
ing to the last census, is the only state in which the 
slaves outnumber the white freemen, is also notorious 
for the most extravagant theories on the vexed sub- 
ject of slavery, and for an absolute negrophobia of 
hatred and contempt for the dark-skinned oflbpring of 
Canaan. In no other part of America is the black 
man so despised ; in no other quarter do his claims 
to the ordinary privileges of humanity meet with so 
scornful a reception. And this is the more remark- 
able, because downright physical cruelty is less 
common in South Carolina than in the swampy delta 
of the Mississippi The landholders of the territory 
are 'southern gentlemen* (so styled, like those of 
Virginia), and estimate themselves as a different order 
•of beings from the rough Kentucky farmers, the 
rugged * Hoosiers,' and the sallow planters of Alabama 
and Mobile. Better educated, more refined in manner, 
and more amenable to public opinion than the slave- 
owners of less aristocratic provinces, the gentry of 
Carolina consider the maltreatment of slaves as an 
ill-bred proceeding. 

Any habitual reader of American journals must 
have observed, that of the acts of hoirid barbarity 
which occasionally are dragged into daylight to shock 
aU Christendom, but few are laid to the score of South 



Carolina. Burnings alive, torture, and fatal floggings, 
so common in Texas and elsewhere, are extremely rare 
in that pugnacious little state, now bidding defiance 
alike to the federal authority and the opinion of 
Europe. On the other hand, Judge Ljmch is a regular 
and i)ermanent Khadamanthus thi*oughout the twenty- 
nine districts ; and the missionaries of the Abolition 
Society are dealt with as unmercifully as ever were 
heresiarchs in the Italy of the middle ages. The same 
planters, who may probably be mild and indulgent to 
the slaves on their own land, are willing and fiercely 
eager to inflict on the preachers of emancipation the 
customary sentence of sfoipes, and tar, and feathers, and 
for a second offence, the halter or the flames. The truth 
is, that a Carolina citizen contrives to thoroughly per- 
suade himself that his negroes are as wholly and right- 
eously his property as his horses and dogs ; and though 
he may be a kind master, in the absence of provocation, 
to both bipeds and quadrupeds, he regards any attempt 
to deprive him of his living chattels as the greatest of 
sins, which even death and ignominy can scarcely 
atone for. It is in vain that argument is wasted upon 
him — if, indeed, he will listen to it, which he seldom 
will. Brooks, that famous representative of the state, 
who actually received the thanks of the citizens for 
his brutal assault on Mr Sumner in the very hall of 
legislature, was a type of his countrymen. Those 
who have known Mr Brooks in private life, are accus- 
tomed to speak of him as a hospitable and agreeable 
person ; the questioning of man^s right of property in 
man had alone the power to raise the fiend in him. 
So it is with the whites of South Carolina. They 
have many advantages over the other denizens of the 
South. Not only is the country a long settled one — 
judging by an Ainerican standard — but there exists a 
numerous class of proprietors comfortably off, and in 
possession of that happy mediocrity of fortune which 
seems to admit of the greatest amount of lettered 
ease ; while education nowhere — not even in studious 
New England itself — is held in higher esteem. 

The colleges of Columbia and of Charleston are 
famous throughout the cotton-growing portion of the 
Union ; and while Georgia is renowned for gouging 
and duels, and Virginia for debts and drinking. South 
Carolina makes it her boast that she rears scholars 
and men of cultivated taste. The hard-headed Yankees 
are apt secretly to look down on the lounging * gentry' 
of the South ; and nothing so much astonishes a New 
Englander who has only visited Mobile with its hybrid 
French jKjpulation, and Virginia with its decayed and 
dissolute cavaliers, as to find in what high estima- 
tion learning is held in the very metrojpolis of slave- 
holding. Although the land in Virginia is almost 
exhausted, though buckwheat and Indian com are 



66 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



growing where the finest tobaooo once flonrisbed, 
though the clearings are fast being absorbed by bushes 
and canebiake, and the properties by mortgages and 
barrenness, still Virginia maintains between eighty 
and ninety packs of hounds. There are not six packs 
in all South Carolina, and those are in the hilly 
country to the north of the state, among the spurs of 
the Appalachian mountains, where the primeval forest 
is not utterly felled, nor its savage denizens eztinctw 
Indeed, the style of housekeeping in Carolina is more 
refined and less prodigal than that which has obtained 
for the Old Dominion its character for exuberant 
hospitality. 

But although the higher classes in the state 
pride themselves on their education and accomplish- 
ments, their acquirements are necessarily imperfect, 
and the whole tone of their minds is warped and dis- 
torted into the ignoring of the simple truths of justice 
and the natural rights of man. No professor at 
Columbia, no bookseller, no schoolmaster, ever ven- 
tures to forget that the theory of African inferiority 
must be maintained at any cost. In the boasted land 
of freedom, the liberty of opinion is more shackled, 
and speech moro restrained, than in the most 
despotic countries of Europe. All books aro sub- 
jected to the scrutiny of self-appointed censors, whose 
toil is a labour of love, and who have the scent of a 
Uood-hound for any expression that may be wrested 
into a condemnation of negro slavery. The news- 
papers never venture, however faintly, to impugn the 
worst excesses of the monstrous system of which 
their province is the champion and the apologist. 
From the pulpit are heard eloquent denunciations of 
the abolitionists, as * those who trouble Israel,* and 
learned arguments founded on the curse of Canaan, 
and the predestined servitude of Ham's posterity. 
The theatres, as well as the churches, aro under the 
eye of the vigilance committees. It is not surprising 
that Masianiello, Touasaxnt VOuverture, and the like 
inflammatory pieces, should be sternly forbidden, but 
it is more remarkable that even Othello is expunged 
from the list of plays that a Charleston audience may 
behold, the reason given being that it would * demoral- 
ise' the negroes. In the bordering state of Georgia, 
the public representation of Desdemona's woes and 
lago's treachery is also tabooed, but for a different 
reason— <nirious enough, and illustrating the sentiments 
of the white freemen of America towards those who 
are unlucky enough to dififer from them in colour. 
Many 3rears ago, Othello was acted at Savannah city, 
the pa^ of the jealous Moor being enacted by a 
northern performer of some celebrity, Paul Dickson. 
It was a gala-night, and the chief actor's benefit; and 
the theatre was crowded, the governor going in a 
kind of state, and the mihtia attending in uniform. 
During the latter part of the play, one of the soldiers 
in the pit was observed to be much excited, and when 
the Moor proceeded to smother his spouse with the 
fatal pillow, the militiaman actually levelled his piece 
and shot the unlucky actor through the heart, 
declaring that *he would not sec a black man 
murder a white woman.' Since this tragical termina- 
tion of a pageant, Othello has been a forbidden play 
on the Georgian boards. The same ultra-caution 
which watches the pulpit, the platform, and the 
stage, extends itself into every department in South 
Oarolina. The fear of a rising of the black race, and 
of a repetition of the St Domingo massacres, is the 
nightmare never absent from a Southerner's imagina- 




tion. But there are more whites than blacks in 
every state but two, and the former are infinitely 
bolder, more adroit, and more accustomed to act 
promptly and in concert Then, too, every white 
citizen is armed, and many of them have saoh a 
tincture of soldiership as the somewhat alovealy 
discipline of the American militia can afford. It it 
true that the privates in these provincial 
very few in comparison with the officers 
township has its crop of majors and captaina, baft 
simple sentinels are less frequently to be met 
with, while the best of the Southern corps are £sr 
inferior in zeal and steadiness to our own volnnteen ; 
but still a very little martial skill goes a long way m 
overawing negroes. If a general insurrection wvn 
to take place to-morrow, many isolated familiei^ 
dwelling in remote plantations thronged by hundreds 
of field-hands, would certainly be cut on in detail 
and individual barbarities might very likely be 
committed, but the great bulk of the slaves woaU 
probably succumb to the fate of the revolted sepo^ 
and pensh in masses. 

So perfectly are the negro's best friends, the aboli- 
tionists of the North, aware of the danger ol any 
hasty outbreak, not to the masters, but to their 8er£l^ 
that they are always earnest in deprecating any such 
ill-advised step. Even Captain Brown, tne hottest 
zealot in America, declared on his scaffold that he 
had no intention, when drawing the sword, to ezeito 
the negroes into a disastrous revolt. No one whe 
knows the South, dreams of the success of each a 
struggle, of which extermination, not liberation, most 
be the certain result : the emancipation of the blacks 
must be a work of peace and compromise, not of war 
and revolution, ana this is felt bv those who have 
most of all devoted their lives to tne task of wi 
away that foul blot from the shield of the 
republic. However, certain it is that the 
owners of South Carolina, surrounded by a very lam 
black population, live in apprehension of a serrus 
war. To them, such a movement, on anything like a 
general scale, would be ruin. Even conquest, aUeaded 
as it must be by acts of rigour, would be destructiyey 
for the slaves are most valuable property, and withoul 
labourers, of course the land must become a dc e er ft i i 
But at first sight, however alarming to unquiet minds 
may be the fact that the free population is outnum- 
bered by the slaves, it wo\ild appear impossible that 
the great bulk of the whites should bo mterested in 
koe|)ing up the present system. In 1850, there were 
274,000 white inliabitants, and of the slaves 384,0001 
The freemen of European stock cannot, therefore, be all 
slaveholders. Moreover, as one or two estates employ 
five hundred hands, and many need from two to tores 
hundred, it is evident that a good many families in 
Carolina must be without even a single slave for 
domestic purposes. Such is indeed the case, not only 
in Carolina, but in every slave state. The gntA 
majority of the whites have no direct claim upon the 
enforced toil of the blacks. The entire number of 
slaves in the Union, in 1850, was 3,200,000 (now a^at 
4,000,000), and these were owned by 346,048 slave- 
holders, but if wc deduct all who owned fewer thatt 
ten slaves, the whole number of slaveholdete wsB 
only 92,215. It seems that a large number of whitas 
in the Southern States own only one or two house 
n^roes, or farm-hands, or groom-boys. Such is tbs 
case, especially in Texas, Missouri, and other roadi 
frontier territories. One thine is certain and patent to 
every traveller, that most of the poorer whites in a 
slave state own no negroes, and that South Carolina is 
no exception to this rule. It may seem stranse that 
slavery should find partisans among a lai^e dass of 
men who, to all appearance, profit by it not at alL 
The poor whites in the South aro not, in general, too 
prosperous. They eat each other up, metaphorically, 
for there are more artisans, more taveni-keepen» 



CHAMBBRS'S JOURNAL. 



67 



pnttehen, doctors, and to forth, thantmn set a decent 
jUtuu^ ah arts and trades are theirs: &ey are the 
dominant caste, the Spartans of America; and yet as 
thsj lounge about tne weed-grown village streets, 
fierce^ hagsard, and shabby, they must often envy the 
plmnp co^ition and childish merriment of the black 
neLots wbo surromid them. The whites get little or 
no agricnltural employment. For oyerseers and 
bookkeepers, Yankees ore generally preferred to 
Southrons. There are not so many lucrative situa- 
tions, fit for half-educated persons, in the South, as 
elsewha«^ and therefore the large class of needy 
citizens fonns the store-house of mlibusteiing adven- 
turers, ever ready for a desperate dash at theHispano- 
Ameriflan Republics of the Mexican Gulf. Yet, 
curiously enough, the most vehement upholders of 
slsrvery are these landless whites, who &el more keenly 
on the subject than the large proprietors themselves, 
and who are ever ready to support their axguments 
by knife and pistoL Indeed, supposing the slave- 
holders to entertain a wish for emancipation, it is 
doubtful whether the^ would have the courage to 
confront the indignation of their poorer fellow-citi- 
zens. Pride and prejudice mainly contribute to cause 
this violent pro-slavery mania m those who rather 
saSer than gain by the negro's servitude. The poor 
white, with nothing to boast of except his vote and 
his colour, is vain of both. Compared with the 
negro, at anyrate, he is a pexsonage of importance, 
one of Nature's aristocrats. 

To acknowledge the blade as his equal, nay, as 
having any riehts at all, though only to personal 
freedom and the power of forming family-ties, would 
be in the white man's eyes to degrade himself to the 
level of the despised race. He really and truly does 
lo<dL on negroes as animals, as an inferior species, not 
meriting to share in the common privileges of human- 
kind ; uiis belief with them is no hypocrisy, but a 
serious engrained faith, which they imbibe horn the 
cradle. Moreover, since every man may himself one day 
become a daveholder, he is inclined to do battle for 
an inatitntiQn that may at a future time be convenient 
to himself. Again, slave-labour keeps out the immi- 
grants from Gennany and Ireland, with whom no 
Southern American loves to be forced into contact or 
competition, while the white man has a monopoly of 
many eooployments for which education might tit the 
black. These various causes, but pride of race in 
especial, render the poorer citizens advocates for negro 
bondage. The proprietors of land are, of course, 
slave-owners, since neither rice nor cotton can be 
cultivated without the aid of black labourers. Those 
who are without daves, are obliged to limit their 
agricultoral operations to cattle-graring, or wood- 
cutting, or something else not requiring continuous 
toUintiM open air; f or there is no use in oQsguisinc the 
fact, that a white man is innately unfit to hoe and dig 
under the burning sun of that semi-tropic climate. 
Hie abolitionists, indeed, contend that tne lands of 
the rice and cotton states can be perfectly well 
cultivated by European labourers, ind anticipate 
the day when Irishmen shall do for wages what 
^^'■HffFf now do under fear of the whip; but this 
can haidly be. Virginia has a cooler climate than 




per cent,, a mortality equal to that of British 
piisoaeis in Jamaica itself. As matters stand, the 
averagi of white life is not nearly so high in the 
Sontb as in the North or the wild W est, and exposure 
to the son is much to be dreaded, jMuticularly by 
immigrsotB from cold countries. Carolina is not 
reckoned unhealthy for a cotton-growing state. The 
latter part of summer and beginning oT autumn are 
the periods wlwn country fevers — swamp fevers as 
they are called — are most prevalent ; but the sea-breeze 
prevents the coast from being as unhealthy as its low 



and moist character would otherwise render ii^ and 
the northern part of the province is kept cool hy the 
snow- winds from the great Appalachian range, where 
all the higher Qiountams retain much of their winter's 
covering through the hot season. The cotton grown 
in Soum Caronna ia of superior quality, and mgher 
priced at New Orleans than most staples of that pro- 
duced in Alabama. The excellence of the rice is well 
known, and rice is indeed the chief exx>ort of the 
state, while its cultivation renders it necessary to 
keep a great deal of land in a wet condition, to the 
consequent prevalence of miasma. 

Escaped negroes from South Carolina usually 
attempt to secrete themselves on board some vessel 
at Charleston or Beaufort, unless they have white 
friends, in which case they are enabled te make use 
of what Americans call the Underground Railway. 
The imderground railway merely implies a system for 
enabling negroes to escape to Canada, by the co-oper- 
ation of white agents of the Abolition Society. These 
latter are located in various towns and cities throughout 
the South, and a runaway is often transported under 
cover of night from house to house, like a bale of con- 
traband goods, until he reaches British territory. On 
the Canadian side of Erie, several villages have been 
founded by these sable exiles, who contnve to subsist, 
though they su£fer much from the severe winter of 
the great lakes. Of course, the office of abolition 
agent is a most dangerous one. Mob-venseanoe unites 
with legal severity to punish any one aimi^ or coon- 
selling the escape of a slave, and the more so, as South 
Carolina has need of more negroes than even her large 
black population affords. To explain this, it is neces- 
sary to bear in mind that South Carolina is classed 
among the 'breeding' states — ^that is, a state where 
the marriage of blacks is encouraged, where they are 
cared for m age, and where they are usually treated 
with the some interested humanity that renders a 
fanner thouj^tful for the welfare oi his cattle. But 
the breeding states vary one from another. Virginia^ 
Tennessee, and Kentucky rear slaves merely to sell 
them for plantation-work to some of the provinces on 
the borders of the rich and unhealthy Mississippi — 
states where adult labour is in demand alone, where it 
answers better, as the calculating cotton-growers say, 
to * buy niggers ready grown,' ami where the Virgima 
and Kentucky blacks arc 'used up' annually in fearful 
numbers. But although exhausted Virginia and 
rough Kentucky can ^il slaves at a profit, fertile 
South Carolina wants all she has, and more. She 
keeps her own coloured people — she buys a few from 
Virginia ; but New Orleans outbids her in the Rich- 
mond market, and hence comes the fierce outcry for 
reopening the African slave-trade. No other topic 
excites such interest in Carolina, save abolition alone^ 
as this. Other states repudiate the Guinea trade, 
while retaining slavery : but South Carolina, reckless 
of scandal, ia impatient to draw her supplies direct 
from the Gold Coast once more, to cheapen slaves, 
now immoderately dear; and while stimulating the 
tn^c in human ficsh, to bring her waste Lands 
under the hoe. There is but one district where the 
sugar-cane thrives — ^namely, that of Beaufort, and 
the state can never export much Muscovado, but 
the yield of cotton and rice might be increased 
considerably, were able-bodied negroes as cheap as 
they were half a century ago. 

'rhe slaves brought over by the yacht Wanderer^ 
belonging to a Carolina gentleman, were sold at an 
average of 5CM) dollars ; and those taken in a captured 
slaver a year since, and lodged by the United States 
naval auuiorities in Charleston jail, narrowly escaped 
being confiscated and brought to the hammer at the 
demand of the municipality. It is a well-known law 
of this state, that any negro or mulatto seaman, on 
board on American or foreign vessel, coming to a 
Carolina port, shall be lodged at once in jail, there to 
remain until the ship is ready to put to sea again. 



68 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



This vexatious edict often robe a BritiBh merchant- 
captain of the temporary services of some of his best 
hands; and as ahnost all vessels have a black cook 
and steward, the inconvenience resulting from such a 
measure mav be imagined. This precaution is dictated 
by a fear of any increase to the free-coloured popula- 
tion, a class regarded with the utmost jealousy and 
aversion. The tree black of Carolina has no enviable 
time of it. The law, less humane than his master, 
throws all kinds of difficulties in the way of his manu- 
mission. Law and custom debar him from many 
occupations. He is forbidden to assemble with his 
fdlows for almost any purpose, imder the displeasure 
of the sheriiF and of Judge Lynch. Education, denied 
to the slave by penal enactments, is refused to the 
free black by prejudice. Any schoolmaster teaching 
a South Carohna free negro, his letters, may look to 
undergo the roughest usage that the Re^pilators can 
inflict. Neither slaves nor citizens, and without rights 
or prospects, the free blacks find themselves in con- 
stant danger of slavery. Every year some zealot 
proposes that the liberated negroes shall be ap- 
propriated to masters, or sold by auction; and 
sucli may indeed be their fate, now that the check 
of northern opinion has been repudiated. There 
are but two other features in the state worthy of 
notice — the Indians and the vinos, both called by the 
name of Catawbaw. These Indians are but some 
ninety families, the broken remnants of a once re- 
nowned and powerful nation, before whom the first 
settlers trembled, and whose warriors were thirty 
thousand strong. Those who still exist are the 
* Green Bird' Catawbaws, who lead a precarious 
life, hunting and fishing, weaving })askets for sale, 
and camping like gipsies around the edges of the 
broad plains of which their ancestors were undisputed 
proprietors. The Catawbaw vine is foimd wild in 
wonderful quantities all over the north of the state. 
It is easily brought into cultivation ; and the wine 
which it affords, though hitl|erto of anjrthing but good 
quality, might, by care and skill, render Soutn Carolina 
a richer country than slave-grown rice and cotton will 
ever do. 



THE FAMILY SCAPEGRACE. 

CUArTER IZ.— THK LAST DAT AT UOME. 

It is not necessary to set forth how, day by day and 
hour by hour, the manner of Dick's life in London 
grew more and more repulsive to him. Judgment 
will probably be given against him by those who read, 
as it was by those who saw, for the world's sympathy 
for young gentlemen in 8imil<'ir plight is rarely to be 
awakened by any medium short of that of the police 
courts. That Kichard was not treated by Uncle 
Ingram, or even by Adolphus, as the apprentices of Mrs 
Brownrigg were by that famous lady, is true enough. 
He had plenty to eat and drink, and a great-coat in 
the winter-time. There were many thousand lads in 
the stony metropolis very much worse off than he, 
who yet remained patiently in that station of life to 
which the guardians of their itarish had bound them. 
We are neither advocates of nor apologists for our 
young friend, although we take leave to pity him. 
Since the Dicks of flesh and blood have faded since 
the commencement of society to justify themselves in 
the eyes of mankind, it is not probable that this pen- 
and-ink creation of ours ^^nll fare any l)etter. When 
Dick suspends relations with China, as it is clear he 
will, he must needs afford to the public eye the very 
improper and unmitigated H}>cctacle of an apprentice 
miming away from his indentures. Maria, with her 
uiiiversal panacea of * Whij> him, whip him well ! ' 
Avill be supj>orted in that recommendation by the 
general voice ; and there is no help for it. 

Still, if we were great orators to move men's minds, 
like Messrs Edwin James or Montague Chambers, 



we would fain plead something for a little nmawvr 
lad scarce thirteen (gentlemen of the juiy), a luuMl- 
some curly-haired youth (good ladies), brouglit m 
hitherto almost at his mother's apron-strings, and 
lo\'ing her and Sister Maggie, and all "who wen 
decently kind to him, transplanted from hia home- 
garden, and set among a wilderness of s^Wn-xip 
trees, bringing forth fruits of Assiduity, £00110117, 
Punctuality, after their kind, but with only som 
three blossoms of Goodwill among them, and not one 
bud of Love. Against which blossoms, too — ^namdy, 
Mrs Trimming, Mr Mickleham, and Mr Jonea — nrasi 
be set a couple of Upas-trees (for when our hearts are 
touched, gentlemen of the jury, our tongue naturally 
flies to metaphor) — the cold dislike of Uncle Ingram, 
and the malicious hatred of Brother Adolphua. 

When June came in, in fact, and set np her hideooi 
parody of leaf and verdure in Golden Souajre, Did[ 
could not stand it any longer. He could not have 
stood it so long but for two things. One of these wac, 
that every Saturday and Sunday his natural relativei 
took themselves away, and left him, and Mr Jones, tiie 
inscrutable, came to sup, and sometimes dine with Mn 
Trimming. This gentleman was DicVs ideal of whai 
a man should be, and he sat at his feet with nevei^ 
tiring ears, learning to smoke, and improving in hit 
method of drinking gin and water. Mr Jones, too^ 
liked Dick in return, and gave him not a few practioJ 
proofs of his regard, although, of late, these had oer 
tainly been getting rarer. He took him on one 
occasion te the Pantomime — passing by the box-ofSoe 
without payment, and thereby increasing his 3^001^ 
protC'g6's admiration for him te the highest d^:ree ; 
and when the spring arrived, he introduced him to 
Cremome, where Mr Jones seemed to have a laige 
circle of acquaintances, and to be esi)ecially a favourite 
among the ladies, though we are oound to say that 
the evening in question was not that famous one upon 
which no female was admitted beneath the rank of a 
baronet's wife. On Sundays, t<x), Mr Jones weald 
sometimes take both Mrs Trimming and Dick to the 
Zoological Gardens in the Regent's Park, where the lad 
most thoroughly enjoyed himself. Except tiiai tiie 
animals were in cages — which he secretly thought 
ought te Ix? disj)ensed with — he deemed the place quite 
comparable with the garden inhabited by our first 
parents. His dream of life was te be en^loyed upon 
these premises, and to live in the charming Uttle 
cottage by the turnstile all his days. The cottage had 
eaves, but at that period of his Ufe, Dick did not see 
the necessity for one of these. 

*How is it, Mr Jones, that such few people seem to 
come te this delightful spot?' observed he one day, 
when after a long cessation from such treats, the two 
were in the monkey-house, employed in the ^uuritable 
distribution of nuts te the most deserving objects of 
that pitiable tribe. 

'Nobody can get in on Sunday without a ticket,* 
replied Mr Jones, *and the number of tickets is 
limited.' 

* Are they very expensive ? ' inquired Dick, with a 
secret determination of hoarding up his sixpence a 
week of pocket-money until the required sum should 
be amassed. 

* They are not to be bought with money,' anawered 
Mr Jones : * that gentleman in the comer yonder pre- 
sented me with my free admission-card.' He pointed 
te an enormous a|)e swinging by his tail from a cross- 
bar, and apparently fast asleep. Dick opened his 
mouth — not from ear te ear, but the other way : he 
was astonished, but he had too much respect for his 
patron to lauch at him. 

* That gentleman, did you say?' said the boy, pcant- 
ing to the oscillating but benevolent donor. *How 
curious that seems ; dear me ! ' 

Mr Jones tapped the cage-bars with his ombrella 
handle, and crieci : * Ralph, Ralph, how are you?* 
Tlie ai)e undid a coil or so of his tail, and so let 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



69 



>ii^flAlf down to the ground with a speed that would 
have put to ahame the smartest sailor in her Majesty's 
fleet He stretched out the black paw at the end of 
his long brown arm as far as it would go through the 
bars, and his teeth rattled like a dice-box while Mr 
Jones shook hands with him. 

'He is saying that he is very well, and that the 
weather is beautiful, although a little close/ observed 
that gentleman. Dick's delight at the familiarity 
of this specimen of the brute creation was irrepres- 
sible. ' Even the animals like Mr Jones,' thought he, 
* and no wonder ; ' but he did wonder, nevertheless. 

'The fact is, Dick,' explained his friend, 'I gave 
this creature to the Zoological Society, and they gave 
me a free ticket to admit friends, by way of acknow- 
led|mieut.' 

'Did you give this poor fellow away?' cried the 
lad, quite scandaUsed at the sacrifice. 'What could 
have mduced you to part with such a charming, good- 
tenipered ' 

'Take care,' cried Mr Jones, 'or he'll have vour 
finger off in half a second, young gentleman : I have 
seen him snap a finger off just as though it were a 
radish. I came to possess him in this way : when I 
was a lad not very much older than you, Dick, I was 
left a menagerie.' 

'Dear me !.' exclaimed the lad in a tone of sympathy, 
and imder the impression that a menagerie was some 
fine name -for an orphan. 

'I found myself the owner of a travelling wild- 
beast show — a lord of the fowl and the brute to an 
extent never dreamed of by Mr Alexander Selkirk. 
Eleidiants and guinea-pigs, ostriches and hunmiing- 
biros were mine, Dick, besides a glass-box crammed 
with boa-constrictors. It was a case of Noah and his 
ark-full, and I did not keep my live-stock very much 
longer than did that patriarch. I went to smash in 
a very few weeks, mv lad, and found myself .with 
nothing in the world but a CercopUhecua Engythilhia^ 
or Long-tailed Grivet^— otherwise my talent^ friend 
Ralph n^re^— whom no creditor was so hiurdy as to 
seize. • I had no place to keep him, however, except 
my greatooat-pocket, bo I made a vutue of necessity, 
and forwarded the interests of Science, by presenting 
him to the Zoological Society. Never was ape more 
sifted, never was Society more charmed. He can 
hold more nuts in his check-pouches than you could 
win at a shooting-barrow at a fair in luuf a day. 
There is no denying that he bites, but we can't 
expect x)erfection in this world. We ain't i)erfect 
ourselves, Dick,- are we ? ' 

Dick humbly replied that he himself was certainly 
not perfect, but tnat Mr Jones appeared to him to 
approach the apex of the moral pyramid as nearly as 
was humanly possible. To which Mr Jones replied : 
' PerhiWB so, lad ; perhaps I do, my boy ; ' and patted 
hLs head approvingly. 

That paternal action reminded the lad at once, as 
by lightning-flash of recollection, that he had seen Mr 
Jones in full canonicals performing in some sacred 
edifice the ceremony of confirmation, but when or 
wh^re it was, as usual, he was quite unable to recall ; 
the desire of doing so, however, was so strong upon 
him, that he took no more interest in animiEhl life 
for the rest of the day, but passed it in a sort of 
vertigo of reminiscence. 

The one other thing which — besides the mitigating 
influence of Mr Jones — had hitherto prevented Dick 
from bidding adieu to commercial life, was the pro- 
mise that had been held out to him of revisiting 
Rose Cottage in six months from the bennning of his 
banishment. It was a cruel edict that nad mvorced 
him firdm home and Mends so long; but it had 
certsinlv heightened the fervour of anticipation with 
which he now looked forward to the holiday. Mr 
Ingram Arixmr rather took credit to himself for 
having thus conferred a gratification at an exceedingly 



cheap rate, and in his rare moments of humour 
would even banter his nephew upon this very point. 
He did not understand how anv subject should be 
kept sacred unless connected with religion or money- 
matters, and treated poor Richard's tears as pigs 
treat pearls. Attacked by his uncle, there was of 
course nothing left for it but to submit ; but if 
Adolphus launched a dart of satire at him — a temp- 
tation that yoimg man could rarely resist — Dick 
would up with whatever material weapon in the way 
of book or inkstand lay nearest to his hand, and. there 
was a considerable fracas in the house, with whipping 
and disgrace to follow. Dick was not of the sort of 
stuff to oe made a butt of ; and as he grew older and 
stronger, this pastime of his elder brother began to 
have something of the danger as well as the excite- 
ment about it of a bull-fi^ht or a tiger-hunt. 

The long-promised Fnday, however, did at last 
dawn upon Dick in all its July glory ; and he found 
himself once more at his old home, and in his 
mother's arms. She waited for. him up in her bed- 
room, not that she was much more imwell than usual, 
but because she could not open wide the doorways of 
her heart with the imimpulsive Maria looking on. That 
yoimg lady still ruled at Rose Cottage, a virgin queen 
as yet without a suitor. Johnnie was away from 
home, having been articled, at his own request, to an 
attorney in the neighbourhood, and was said to be 

Eursuing the study of the law with a relish ; his joy 
eing somewhat mitigated, however, by the presence, 
in the same ofiice, of Mr William Dempsey, blind — 
and that but physically — only of one eye. Uncle 
Ingram and Adolphus had some particular business to 
trsmsact, and were not to come from town until the 
next morning ; and Maria, who never knew where to 
stop when among buttered toast, had got one of her 
tremendous bilious headaches. .Everything, in fact, 
was as it should be for Dick's one holiday. ' I tell you 
what, mother — I tell you what, my Maggie,' cried he 
in his school-boy jargon, ' let us have a lark on the 
water — let us spend the livelong day on the dear old 
river. I will row you both up to the grotto. Put on 
your things, darlings, now, do; and, Maggie, don't 
forget some cold meat and so on, because it will be so 
jolly to picnic in the wood, and I 'U go and get the 
boat ready this minute.' 

Dick, having saluted Jane and Rachel, ran out 
into the garden like a young horse who first feels the 
turf beneath his heels ; and when he had got the skiff 
in order, went over all the miniature domain again 
and again : he crossed the bridge into the rose- 
garden, and plucked a nosegay apiece for his mother 
and sister, and climbed up and swung himself on the 
same willow-tree branch that had borne him a hun- 
dred times before ; he tried to cateh the minnows in 
the diteh with his pocket-handkerchief, but found he 
had lost some of his dexterity in that savage art since 
his residence in town ; he caught sight of the brown 
back of that identical rat which he had watehed in 
and out of the same water-hole for the last half-dozen 
years ; and when he threw the stone at him, missed 
him, by half an inch, as he had always done before : 
he marked again the small blue butterflies with 

rkled under-wings, wheeling about the comer of 
osier-bed, and &e dragon-lies that lit upon the 
heads of the tall water-plants, like flames of hre, and 
while endeavouring to reach them, got into the mud 
knee-deep, and had to change his trousers — all as of 
old. 

By that time, his passengers and cargo were ready, 
and off they started in the reverse order to that 
indicated by the poet, Youth at the Helm— for Maggie 
steered, as she sat by her mother's side — and Plea- 
sure, in the person of Dick, at the Prow, or nearly 
so. With those dear faces shining full upon him, and 
all the sighte and sounds which he loved b^ in 
nature upon all sides, he was indeed a happy boy, and 
scarce the less so because he knew what short-lived 



70 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



joy it necdB must be to him, for his dispontion 
wai one that soffered him to make the most of plea- 
sure while its sun was shining; and not to feel the 
shadow of the coming woe. Under the huge span of 
tiie red railway-brioge, while the iron train above 
them thundered and shook it as it flew, and past the 
osier-beds, and in and out the islands at their leisure, 
paddled the happy three : it seemed as thou^ with 
Maviug land they had left all sombre thoughts and 
memories behind ; Dick laughed as he had scarcely 
done for half a vear, and now and then, with sudden 
access of affection, would almost upset the boat in 
crawUngr to kiss mamma and Maggie. Mrs Arbour 
ffppeareSi to come once more, after years of submer- 
sion, above the surface of existence, and to have her 
being again, as lonff ago, in the atmosphere of love. 
When they'enterea the great lock-gates, and the 
boat simk with the sinking waters, she even volun- 
teered one of those old, old songs which she had once 
been accustomed to sins within that echoing place; 
but recollecting on a sudden in whose dear company 
it had last been sung in that very qx>t, her voice 
broke down, and Maggie had to help her through 
with it. There are few pleasanter minutes in a river- 
voyase than those spent within the four walls of some 
cool dark lock, with the blue sky only to be seen, and 
when the song mingles with the falling waters with- 
out, as with an instrument ; nor afterwards is the 
chsjige less grateful, when the great gates part, as if 
by magic, noiselessly, and the world is once more let in 
upon us in its summer splendour. 

On the other side of tiie lock, and up a back-stream, 
above a foaming lasher, they perceived the fisherman 
Wilson, whom the widow would have gladly passed 
nnseoi ; but he called out to Master Ri<mard, and the 
lad rowed towards him as to a friend and teacher of 
blithe sports, of old. 

*I am glad to see you, sir,' he said, *afid Miss 
Maggie, and good Mrs Arbour also. I know that it 
was not of her kind heart that I was obliged to leave 
her cottage, and that I now fish from shore because I 
have no punt. Here is a fine trout that you will please 
to accept, sir, in token o| my respect for you and 
yours — or at least some of yours.* 

Wilson was right in saying that it was not of 
Mrs Arbour's will that he had had notice to quit 
his cottage ; but he did not know that she had 
kept him in it for many years bv paying his rent 
for him whenever he was behindhand, until Maria 
found it out ; whereiipon she told her uncle ; and 
that gentleman, who had not forgotten the manner 
in which he had been once associated with the 
Emperor of Morocco, turned the poor fisherman 
out of doors. This meeting somewhat dashed the 
spirits of the party for a time, but presentiy they 
came upon another nlcasure-boat, wita which Dick 
raced, and beat it, and then quite a fleet of swans sur- 
rounded them, and gave them mimic battle, and in a 
little all was joy again. Thus the three reached the 
grotto in the wood, whence welled the crystal spring, 
and there they dined, with more enjoyment than ever 
yet did alderman at feast ; and thus, more leisurely, 
they drifted home, their skiff half -filled with water- 
lilies, and the feathery heads of rushes, and all the 
river spoil It was a golden day, not likely to be soon 
forgotten by any of those three, and to be treasured 
up by one of them for ever — a home-picture hung in 
the inner chamber of his soul, evoking, like the image 
of a saint, all purest thoughts whenever he looked 
upon it ! 

CHAPTER X. 
DICE OVTS TUE PAIIfTKa. 

Mr Ingram Arbonr had set the space of three 
months between Dick's present holiday and his next 
enfranchisement from Darkendim Street; but it 
would have been all the same to that young gentle- 
man if the appointed limit had been three years 



instead, or even thirty. He had made vp his umid, 
in short, so soon as he should reftom to Gokkn 
Square, to run away from it, and upon the Trwday 
morning after his vint to Rose CoUa^ he pot thit 
plan into execution. His nreparations y/ntce not 
extensive, but they were complete. He packed up all 
his necessary clothing in a carpet-bag, along wnh s 
Bible which his mother had given him, and earned it 
a couple of streets off before he called a cab. He hid 
seven-and-threepence in his pocket in hard caeh ; a 
capital knife, with six blades, given to him by Dr 
Neversleep at his baptism, in tl£ charact^' ol spon- 
sor, as being a more useful present to a young man 
in the end than a silver one ; and three-quarten d 
an enormous cake which Jane had made for ha 
especial benefit. He possessed money, arma, and pn>- 
visions, in short, as a thoroughly equipped expionng- 
party should do, and startra. m tiie nighest spiriti 
in pursuit of that shifty thing — a London liTelinood. 
Once only, when he stopp^ the cabman to drop 
a letter into a post-omce, his face wore rather 
a grave expression ; but leaving the solitude of ths 
interior of tae cab, and climbing up beside the driver, 
he soon recovered, in that cheeilul comjiany, coniidB* 
ably more than equanimitv. No wonder that tiie 
thought of that letter made him sad : it was ■ihlnwil 
to his mother, and ran — in by no means p^^i^lWI liiM 
— to this effect : 

*My Deabest Mother — ^I have run away fam 
the crockery business, and turned my hand to another 
profession which I hope to like better. I ooidd 
not stand it any longer from Adolphua and Uaefe 
Ingram — especially Adolphus — I could not '"dwA I 
cannot write what I have suffered for the last az 
months ; but if you knew, oh, I know you would pily 
and forgive me, mother. I have got a new « t^ »^«« , 
so don't fear, azid I wiU write to you sometimeSy I will 
indeed. And whatever you do, dearest mother aad 
Maggie, do not ^>elieve what Adolphus uid Unde 
Ingram say against me. I have got your Bible witii 
me, with your dear handwriting in it. Yon wSl 
never, never be out of my thoughts, you two. — Beliefe 
me, in spite of this, dear mother, your loving atm—K 
Arboub.' 

The appointment which Dick thus spoke of was 
not a government one, but had been, oonloaed 
upon him solely upon his own merits, and in oon- 
sequence of his personal application. He had seen, 
some days ago, a neatly executed placard in a hair- 
dresser's shop-window near to Leicester Sqnaie, 
stating that a Genteel Youth of Good Addreaa was 
wanted within, to assist in the Cutting Department, 
and he had implied for the situation upon the spot 

* Why, you are not much past fifteen, my lad ?' had 
been the expostulation of Mr Tipsaway the proprietor. 

' Not much,' replied Dick, not thinking it neoessaiy 
to state that he was even short of that age of dis- 
cretion ; * but I am exceedingly genteel, I do assure 
you.* 

'And you've got a good address too, I rappeeet* 
observed the barber saraonioally. 

Dick only shook his curly hair and shewed his teeth 
—as the poor Italian organ-boys do when we wa;fe 
them away with our savage British hands from the 
summit of our dining-room Venetian blinds — and* as 
it happened, no verbal reply oould have served ^m» 
better. 

'He has some modesty, then,' observed the perru- 
quier to hie consort. 

' I think he wiU do very well to send out to the 
Ladies' Schools,* observed Mrs Tipsaway critically. 

Whatever Mrs Tipsaway thought, Mr Tiiisaway 
always acted upon, and Mr ^BiiSiard Arbour had 
ther^ore obtained admittence into their fashionable 
establishment upon trial He had promised to be at 
his post — whatever that might mean — ^upon the 
ensuing Tuesday, and he arriv^ there with nis cake 
and caipet«bag at the appointed houz; 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



n 



The barber and his wife were perfectly well aware 
tiiat Master Richard Smith, as he called himaftlf, was 
a joung centlemaa who had nm away from home, and 
were au we more glad to have him firom that drcum- 
ftance. Such an escapade on his part was of more 
^ue to them than toe most resi>ectable references, 
of which of course he had none : if, they argued, he 
was found out and taken back a^ain, they would 
either obtain hitth-money from his family, or the 
afiair would be made public and their establishment 
advertised; if not, his appearance in their Saloons 
would be certainly advanti^reous. 

The apartments thus dtnominaked were three 
chambers of small extent, funushed with that pecu- 
liar skimpiness and inefficiency which diBtin£;uish 
tite saloons of diminutive steam-boats, and wiUi an 
enormous basin upon wheels — in two of them — in 
lieu of a table, which carried out the nautical 
parall^ still further. The fireplaces in ull these 
zooms smoked throofihout the winter — although Mr 
Tipsaway would dec&re tqran his word of honour, 
when any complaint was made, that it was only 
a particular quarter of the west wind or the east 
wind, as the case might be, which caused that 
miprecedented misfortune ; and in one of them the 
customers were allowed to smoke, a large propor- 
tion of whom happened, for oertain reasons, to be 
foreigners, who would not otherwise perhaps have 
patronised the jilace. 

*In that comparatively small apartment, sir,* 
observed Mr Tii)saway to ms youne recruit, on intro- 
docing him to the premises'— * in uiat comparatively 
small apartment, are not seldom to be seen some of 
the most exalted personages in the history of Euro- 
pean politics, the bulwans of continental liberty, 
tha i^postles of that sacred gospel of Equality between 
and man What the deuce do you mean. 



Frizzle, by running against me in that fashion?' 
Maculated Mr Tipsaway suddenly, as a pale young 
man, in a white apron and shirt-sleeves, and carrying 
an enormous can of water, stumbled upon them in the 
daik and narrow passage that shut on the shop from 
(he saloons. *Do you juiow who you art, sir, and 
who / am ? A pretty example of respect and subor- 
dination, Friaszle, you are setting to this young 
man here. Why isn't this gas-jet lighted, which I 
have ocdered to be done every morning without fail ?' 

' Please, sir,' explained the trembling Frizzle, * Mrs 
^npeaway said ' 

* Silence, sir,' thundered the proprietor; *how do 
you dare to interrupt me when I am speaking. Go 
along with you, and be more careful in future not to 
turn your cans over your betters. — ^Where was I, my 
voung friend,' added the barber, dropping his voice — 
'where was I, when that idiot ran up against me ? ' 

*At the sacred gospel of £(|uality between man 
and man,' suggested Dick with simplicity. 

'Exactly so,' rejilied Mr Tipsaway, whose oratory 
bad been a good deal quenched by the cold water. 
' WeU, the short and long of it is, the refugees and 
Boch like meets here pretty often, and talks all kinds 
of lingo. One of 'em can't talk at all, however — 
Count Ootsuchakoff, the Russian gent — here he is 
a coming through the shop at this instant. Now, just 
yon look at him.' 

^ Pick did look at him, as at the first Count whom 
hia hitherto unprivileged eye had ever beheld, and 
this is what he saw ; a tall dark sallow man, of about 
fifty years of age, without a vestige of hair upon his 
face, and that upon his head cut down to mere gray 
brisUe : he had that painful look of enforced watch- 
fulness about him wnich only belongs to the deaf 
and dumb, as though they were solicitous not to lose 
the play of a sin^e muscle in the coimtenances of 
their more fortimate fellow-creatures : upon the left 
breast of his hi^h-buttoned black waistcoat, there 
depended about Siree-haifpenny- worth of red ribbon, 
tho termination of which--doubtlMi tha ordtrof the 



Golden Eagle, or other costly bird of his native land — 
was lost in a little side-pocket. As he walked throueh 
the shop, he lifted his hat to Mrs Tipsaway, who 
stood behind the counter, an act of condescension 
which delighted Dick, and even elicited from Mr 
Tipsaway — who was accustomed to it — a cordial 
expression of 2)rai8e. 

* He 's the politest beggar, is the Count, Smith, as 
ever you see. He 'II bow to me, and even to you, 
now, when he comes in, just as though we were 
counts ourselves.' 

In another moment the Russian nobleman had 
entered the smoking-room, where the two were 
standing, and saluted them in the mamiificent and 
courtly manner which had been predicted 

*How are you. Old Starch-and-Stiff?' observed Mr 
Tipsaway, tlu*owing, however, a most marked respect 
into his features. 'Will vou have a dass of the same 
tipple as usual, and smo&e jrour cabbage-leaf till the 
other noble swells make their appearance, eh? — Yon 
see. Smith,' remarked the bs^ber, observing the 
extreme dismay depicted in Dick's countenance, *it 
don't signify tuppence what one tays to a deaf-and- 
dumb cove like this ; one may just as well call him 
" Old boy" as " Your excellency ;" in fact, it would be 
throwing fine words away, and putting one's self out 
of one's usual way for nothing.' 

Upon this explanation the unfortunate count 
smiled a smile of the most courteous approval, and 
seating himself at the table, ^iroduced a little parcel 
of tobacco and a small volume, consisting of thin 
1)rown paper, out of which raw materials he began 
constructing cigarettes. 

' How deuced sharp he is with his fingers I * observed 
^Ir Tipsaway admiringly. 'I'm hanged if he ain't a 
precious deal more like a monkey than a man. You 
should see him presently when the others come in 
and talk their lingo; here he'll sit for hours, bless 
you, smoking and rolling, rolling and smoking, and 
making believe to listen, just as though he were all 
right, you know. He 's a very patient chs^, that I 
must say for him. Here's your Hodervee, count — 
that 's what he would call brandy, if he could speak, 
you know — and do keep to the spittoon, there's a 
good creature — he's an awful creetur for tiiiat, is 
the count, and vexes my wife most amazing. They 
say he can spoctorate over his own head, as he sits in 
his chair, but I can't say as I ever saw him do il 
But now we must clear out of this, for here comes 
Monsieur de Crespigny, and Herr Singler,. and the rest 
of the foreign gents, who like to be by themselves 
here, and have no fancy for listeners.' 

This delicacy on the part of Mr Tipsaway must not 
be estimated at too high a rate, considenag that if 
he had applied his ear to the keyhole of the smoking 
saloon witn ever so great an assiduity, he would never 
have heard anything but tongues which he did not 
happen to be able U) translate. It would have beian 
a dangerous method of studying f orei^ pronundatioi:^ 
too, for the barber was right enough m describing his 
guests as impatient of eaves-droppers. In that small 
smoky backroom of the unconscious hotrcutter, 
certain determinations were now and then arrived ai^ 
important enoush, and the divulging of which would 
have brought deatib. or ruin on many an innocent 
head hund^ds of miles away. That wretched room 
had been the hatching-place of many an abortive plot 
for the confusion of Tyrants, and even the nursery 
of more than one rickety Constitution. It was less 
convenient for the cnjoymeot of social life, it is true, 
than for the arrangement of conspiracies, but those 
who used it had been driven — as they thought by an 
arbitrary and vindictive hand — from country, and 
home, and friends, and all things that give life a 
wholesome relish, and had their minds solely set — 
firmly xuid savagely as a man sets his teeth--upon 
wrongs to be rioted, and cruelties .to be avenged. 
Ko foreign spy vould have dreamed of laradiog Mr 



72 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



Tipsaway's quiet emporium, for it is notorious that 
mouchards are entirely without sense of humour, 
which, and which alone, might have led them to look 
with grave suspicion upon the fact of a number of 
gentlemen, whose close-cropped heads had the appear- 
ance of stubble-fieldB, frequenting, almost daily, an 
establishment devoted to cutting and curling. 

These men, so scant of linen, so saving of soap, had 
yet, in Richard's e^es, a certain dignity about them, 
which Englishmen, similarly stricken oy poverty, would 
perhaps have lacked. When we islanders grow poor, 
we are apt to cease from being polite, and to regard 
our feUow-creatures with bitterness ; nor do our 
shabby hats grow shabbier through too much cour- 
teous salutation of the general puolic. A handsome, 
merry, young face like that of Richard Arbour, was 
as much a passport to the heart of M. de Crespigny 
— melancholy as it had grown to be — as when he 
had been a prosperous gentleman, and leader of the 
extreme left m the Chamber of Deputies. 

He congratulated Dick upon his new appointment 
at Mr Tipsawa^s, iust as though he had been some 
cadet of noble family just gazetted page to the French 
king ; and thus in a couple of minutes won more of 

gratitude from the impulsive lad than Uncle Ingram 
ad been able te earn by thirteen years of practical 
benefits. Oh, great and wonderfid powers of human 
look and speech, that can confer such gracious happi- 
ness upon the hearts of others bv a mere smile or 
tone ! and oh, still more wonderful human blindness 
and arrogance, that spare to bestow a gift that costs 
the donor so little ! 

Although, however, M. de Crespigny — who con- 
versed with Dick in English, of course, never imagin- 
ing that a lad in his position -^oiild undcrstend 
any other language than his own — and our young 
runaway did become fast friends in a few days, 
it is not to be supposed that the barber's boy had 
nothing else to do but to cultivate the acquaint- 
ance of foreign noblemen. On the day after his 
arrival, he was taken in hand b^ Mr Frizzle, a feeble 
young man, much bullied hy Tipsaway, and with an 
expression of countenance piteous as that of a hunted 
kangaroo, to which animal he bore a further resem- 
blance in an enormoiis linen pouch, which he always 
carried about with him, iilled with the implements of 
his profession. Whether Mr Frizzle had real genius or 
not, is a question only to be decided — or rather to be 
fought about, for they never decide — bv the psychol- 
ogical metaphysicians ; but that he had, at all events 
* a turn * for music, there is no denying. Like other 
eminent persons in obscure circumstances, however, 
who have been attached to that divine calling, he 
pursued it under many disadvantages; his principal 
instrument of melody being the comb kept for the 
general use of the customers, by help of which and 
some thin brown curling-paper, he would perform 
curious pieces of his own composition — muffled 
oratorios: extracting music from tne tortoise-shell, 
like Orpheus and the earliest masters of the art. 

* Frizzle, why don*t you stop that infernal twanging ? * 
roared Mr Tipsaway at 11 a. m. from the front ^op, 
on the morrow of Dick's arrival. * Don't you know 
that it's the last Saturday in the month, and that 
Mr Smith must be taken to school this morning?' 

Dick thought with a shudder of Messrs Dot and 
Carriwun's, and his heart sank within lest the study 
of the mathematics should be indeed necessary for 
the hair-cutting line of business, as it seemed to be for 
everv other. 

* To school, sir ! * cried he ; * I have been to school, 
Mr Tipsaway, and learned up to vulgar fractions.' 

* You will see more of them to-£y, lad,* grinned 
the barber, in intense enjoyment of the coming witti- 
cism, * than you ever saw in your life before. It is a 
charity school you are going to this morning, where 
aU the boys may be said to be vulgar fractions. It is 
the experimentum in corport vUi, as my classical friend 



Herr Singler once observed. You are about to leani 
hair-cutting upon paupers' heads, Mr Richard Smith. 
The parish authorities have such a belief in oxor 
accurate knowledge of the prevailing mode, tiiat 
they place one himdred and twenty neads at our 
disposal every six weeks. Frizzle, give him the 
bluntest pointed scissors that we have in the shop^ 
lest he should abuse the confidence thus reposed in 
us; and don't take any combs there, mind tha^ 
for you know what happened once, in cosBcqu^ioe, 
to Mr Camellair, the artist, who has never nnoe 
visited our establishment.* 

Thus it was that Mr Richard Arbour mastered tiw 
rudiments of the science of hair-cutting. His oncnlti- 
vated fancy was jUlowed to sow na wfld-oati in 
charity-schools and workhouses, among locks for 
the nourishment of which no Polar bear is slain, no 
Pommade de Tipsaway is concocted; nay, if troth 
must be told, he was even lent out gratis upon 
Sunday mornings to inferior establishments in low 
neighbourhoods, nor imtil he had disfigured many 
himdreds of the working-classes with his ignorant 
shears, was he judged worthy to try his 'prentice- 
hand upon a gentleman. That time, however, did 
at last arrive, and the genteel youth of good addrees 
drew customers to the house, as Mr Tipsaway had 
anticipated. The lad was a considerable relief to 
those who had hitherto only exjwrienced the nervous 
attentions of Mr Frizzle. That young man — ^besides 
his introduction of the foreign body we have already 
hinted at into the luxuriant tresses of Mr Camellair — 
had been guilty of enormous indiscretions. He had 
almost driven Major Bantam into an apoplexy by 
whistling a melody — softly but quite perceptdbly — 
upon a bald spot on that indicant ofiicers heed, 
as he stood behind him *thinnmg his top,' as tiie 

Ehrase goes ; and when Miss Comely Fettigrew 
ad ask^ him whether he thought that he had a 
pair of whiskers to suit her — meaning, of comve, 
those artificial yW^f^^^ used for distending the side- 
hair — he had fairly spluttered with laughter, and 
rushed out of the room. Moreover, his conversation 
— a most important matter with gentlemen of his pro- 
fession — was feeble to quite an extraordinary degree. 
Beyond *The weather is distressingly 'ot to-day, mem,* 
or, * 'Ow that chimney do smoke now, to be sure, air, 
don't it ?* he had absolutely nothing to say; while, in 
place of introducing the subject of purchases warily 
and delicately, he would come out with : * Now, buy 
a pot of our pommade, sir — cto,' as though he were 
appealing to the pity rather than self-interest of 
the customer. 

The forei^ gentlemen, in particular, whose inex- 
plicable pohteness affected the nerves of Mr Frizzle, 
were exceedingly glad to be waited upon by Dick 
instead of him: they did not think it necessary 
to break off their conversation when the lad chanced 
to have occasion to enter their room; and it must 
be confessed that he took advantage of that circnsn- 
stance to drink in as much as his Knowledge of ths 
French ton^e, imparted to him by Sister Maggie, 
would permit him. He could not imderstand very 
much, of course — even when he could translate it — 
of their talk about the Solidarity of the Peoples, or of 
the Moment being Supreme for down-trodden Nation- 
alities, but he knew that they were talking eecreti^ 
and that he was listening to them, unknown to them- 
selves, which is a state of affairs gratifying to most 
people. 

Moreover, he was deeply interested in the scenes 
themselves, and the persons who composed them : in his 
friend and patron, M. de Crespigny, so eloquent and 
so enthusiastic ; in Herr Singler, so auiet and yet so 
weighty, that no man put in a wora while he was 
speaking; in Signer Castigliano, so scornfully indigo 
nant in nand, and voice, and eye ; and of the ten or 
a dozen conspirators who assembled, all or some, in 
that little saloon daily, especiaDy in the silent, snDen 






CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



73 



Oount Grotsuchskkoff, who sat in that stormy parlia- 
ment, sipping his brandy, and smoking his tooacoo, as 
though he were the sole occupant of the apartment. 
Now and then, a slip of paper would be handed to 
him with some pencilled words, requesting his advice 
on this or that matter, and he would write his reply 
on a leaf of his little cigarette-book, with incred- 
ible speed. The conspirators had evidently a high 
opinion of his jud^ent, and indeed, for five-and- 
thirty years this exile from St Petersburg — banished 
perhaps for writins what he might have spoken 
with mipunity, had he been able to speak at all — 
had been prompter or participator in half the revolu- 
tions (d £urope. There was a great attraction and 
mystery about this man for Dick, who had never 
chanced to see a deaf-and-dumb person before, and 
his sharp young eyes were often fixed upon him 
when the count was by no means aware of it. That 
sentleman would sometimes stay behind when his 
uiendfl departed, finishing his eau de vie, and on a 
certain occasion, the lad surprised him in the perfor- 
mance of a rather singular action. 

Dick had opened the saloon-door with unusual 
quietness, and without the draught or other accom- 
panying circumstance, such as generally attracted 
the count*s attention at once, announcing his 
presence, and behold, there was the Russian arrang- 
ing the slips of paper that had been ^ven to him 
during the conference in his volummous pocket- 
book 1 This struck Dick as being remarkable, 
because he had heard M. de Crespigny say that he 
would warn Coimt Gotsuchakoff to be purticular 
in destroying them, and the count, on receiving the 
written suggestion, had apparently done so — folding 
each slip as soon as he haa perused it, and consuming 
it in the gas-jet that was always aUght in the room 
for smoking purposes — not only on tlmt occasion, but 
ever afterwards, as the lad had seen him do many 
times. This contradictory circumstance would not, 
however, of itself perhaps have awakened Dick's 
suspicions, had not the Russian suddenly started up, 
thrust the pocket-book into his bosom, and seizing 
the lad by the throat, uttered in unmistakable French, 
and with a rolling of the rs beyond the reach of most 
articulate-speaking men — not to speak of a deaf-and- 
dumb gentleman — ^that one tremendous rage-laden 
continental shibboleth — * Scure !! ' 

THE BEE-WORLD. 

We happened to be overhearing but yesterdajr a 
nursery-lesson adnunistered to our youngest child, 
aged six, and the superiority of knowledge exhibited 
by that infant compared with any which we were 
poBseased of concerning the subject in hand, com- 
plete confounded us. 

' miat do we know, my little dear, about bees?* 
inquired the governess, in that insinuating tone by 
wmch information is supposed to be most easily 
extracted from the young. * What do we know now 
about bees? ' It waa surprising, we repeat, how much 
that HtUe cirl did ^ow about them, of which her 
learned father, as he was called in court, was pro- 
foundly ignorant; and yet there was Huber in our 
library, and even a pamphlet just published upon the 
Management of Beea lying on our desk. We reiterated 
to onnelves tiae question of the governess : * What do 
vou know, Mr raterfamilias, about bees?' and we 
bluahed in the solitude of our study as we answered 
thus. 

We know that Dr Watts inquires — no, remarks 
with admiration — 'How doth tne little busy bee 
improve each shining hour ! ' and that a previous 
poet, Virgil, has paid that insect many deserved 
comjdimentB. But we also remember a rather alarm- 
ing picture in one of. Virgil's books of a certain ox 
lymg dead with a swarm of bees about him, who, it 
IB our strong impression, had stung him to death. 



We know that bees do sting, since we have a 
distinct recollection of having in our childhood 
suffered from them, when our beloved parents placed 
our nose in a blue bag, with the mistaken idea of 
allaying the irritation: it did not allay it, but 
increased our terror and distress very much. We 
thought that the colour would never be washed 
away — like Shakspeare's celebrated fast and indelible 
red, which would see the multitudinous seas incarna- 
dined first — and that we should have a blue nose for 
life. We did not learn, nor have we done so to this 
hour, why that bag was blue. 

We know that one of the prettiest ornaments in 
the cottagers' gardens of the village at home were 
bee-hives, which somehow gave us the same notion of 
comfort and plenty in their case as was afforded by 
the more ungainly wheat-ricks in the farmyard ; and 
justly so, for those persons who kept bees were them- 
selves a provident class, and always laid something 
in store against their winter. 

We know that the bee inserts himself into very 
curious places, after a silent and burglarious fashion, 
although doubtless with the best intentions. The way 
in which he comes booming out of the bell of a flower 
which one has gathered m ignorance of his being 
there, is exceedmgly startling; and we have some 
faint notion that he manages to get into bottles of 
very old port wine, and to leave his wings there. 

Finally, we know that there is such an insect as 
a queen-bee, but what she does, except (we suppose) 
reign, we have no idea ; and this last piece of pro- 
fundity completes our knowledge upon the entire 
subject. 

Honest Reader, can you lay your hand upon your 
heart, and protest that you luiow anything more 
than this about bees? If so, you may be even an 
Apiarian — ^in which case we have nothing to say to 
you, €rO to ! We are addressing ourselves to simple 
Christian folk; to them who were ignorant, as we 
ourselves were yesterday, and whom we would make 
as wise as we are to-day. We have found a poem — 
the Romaunt of the Bee — the existence of which we 
had never dreamed of ; an epic we had never looked 
into, although it has stood on the shelf in the garden 
opposite for many a summer, and thou^ we knew ite 
title — the Bee-hive — perfectly welL Let us turn it 
over (in our mind, tnat is, for practically it would 
be dangerous), and extract the honey (the poetry and 
the humour), leaving the wax and other glutinous 
material (the desperately scientific and statistical 
information) for those of stronger digestions. 

Even Science herself, however, discards her harsh 
appellations, and grows almost musical when speak- 
ing about bees. She calls them ArUhrophUa and 
MeUtfera, the flower-loving and the honey-bearing; 
albeit she is greatly at fault for a fit title for that 
golden down which they delight to pilfer from the 
swinging flower-bells, and terms it pollen. * I 'd bo 
a butterfly, bom in a bower,' sings an unknown 
poet, but probably one cursed with the improvidence 
of his race, and whose opinions were certainly at 
variance with those of Mr Thomas Carlyle. How 
much better would it be to be bom in a nice warm 
hive ; to be swathed in silk, or some substance 
equsdly pleasant, and less expensive, termed ' cocoon ; ' 
and to be fed on honey-dew, like hun who beheld the 
palace of Kubla Khan ! How happier far must be the 
hour when the bee first * feels his feet,' than that 
enjoyed by the infant Homo under the same circum- 
stances, for such members are economically denied 
to bees until they are absolutely wanted ; and how 
still more delicious the day on which he first emerges 
upon lus silver wings into the summer air I 

At the same epodi when the pur^e-coloured 
child is squalling m ite nurse's arms, objecting to 
its strait-waisteoat, and nervously apprehensive of 
pins, the infant bee is drinking in all the glories 
of earth and air. He sings to himself for very 



74 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



happiness. In eveiy flower he finds odours, and 
di^dous sweetmeats, and enjoys them both, accom- 
panied by the most delightful nuition, like that 
of a school-boy in his swinA or a sailor in his 
hammock. In a cowslip's bell he lies, or under the 
blossom that hxuigs on the bou^h; and this is his 
Vfork, mind you. The bee, in addition to these ravish- 
ing pleasures, has the crowning satisfaction of the sense 
of toil — of doin£ his duty to others as well as to him- 
Belt When he nas eaten enough, he proceeds, in con- 
tempt of a polite rule to the contrai^, which trammels 
most human children, to fill his httle pockets. He 
has a ba^ into which he puts the precious honey-drops 
nntil it is quite full, and he has also two side-recep- 
tacles in his legs for the palleiL If it has been showery, 
he saves himself the trouble of making this up into 
homoQopathic golden pills, and by pocketing them, 
idling nimself bodily among it wherever it is found ; 
he thus acquires a coat of many colours — ^red, white, 
yellow, or blue — so that the intelligent flonst who 
observes him thus decked out, can telTthe very flowers 
from which the vagrant has been thieving ; and when 
he returns home, which he does as stoucht as an 
arrow, after a flight upwards at the rate 3. a mile a 
second to take its bearings, his friends are not too 
proud to brush him caref uBy down, and put away all 
the pollen into the granary. It is this which mokes 
what is called bee-bread ; for bees are not so ^p-eedy 
as some little boys, who will eat their honey without 
any bread to it. Perhi^M the queen, whom we read 
of in the nursery tsongs as eating bread and honey in 
her parlour, was after all but a oueen-bee ; but this is 
a question suitable only for tne antiquarian com- 
mentators. The indoor work of bees is as light as 
their open-air avocations. The hive being limited, 
and the number of bees continually increasing, a 
thorough system of ventilation becomes necessary. 
The workers are therefore * told off' by sixties or so 
at a time, and accomplish the desired object by stand- 
ing on their feet and * making believe' wiui their 
wings to fly. This is certainly no exhausting labour, 
such as we humans always find * raising the wind' to 
be; and some old bees of lethargic temperament prefer 
to stay at home, and puU the punkah, to wander- 
ing about gardens ana roaming over the heathery 
hills with their comrades. What vulgar outside per- 
■ons may choose to say about their increased weight, 
and of how that less than five thousand (in conse- 
quenoe of these sedentary habits) are now going to 
uie pound, is nothing to them ; since they nave no 
sense of hearing, or if they once had it, it has been 
dazed and destroyed by the continuous buzzing going 
on aroimd them. For consider — you that have but 
one bee in your bonnet — what it must be to have 
fifteen thousand bees (which is not a lai^e hive-full) 
all under the same straw hat I It is useless, then, for the 
unscientific man to bring out his tongs and warming- 
pan with the idea of attracting bees to swarm. They 
are mercifully denied by nature the organs for the 
i^preciation of that music. Thieves, of course, are 
not to be feared by such courageous householders, 
but the moth breaks through at night sometimes, and 
steals after a very singular manner — namely, by 
giving. She lays her eggs in the hive cuckoo-fashion, 
and their voracious larvcB devour the honey. No 
wonder, then, that the bees fear moths— ^tti^iU banaos 
gt dona ferenUa, a scholarly quotation which we have 
not often so good an c^portunity of introducing. 

Hitherto, we have spoken only of Working-bees, 
who form about four-fifths of a swarm. The oUier 
fifth is composed of those who neither toil nor spin, 
nor gather into hives, and who are therefore — by 
peasants and other rude persons oonoemed in thie 
management of bees — somewhat contemptuously 
tarm^ Drones. Did ever lover pass by such a name ? 
These live for love, and die for love too — as we shall 
presently hear — and it is no wonder perhi^^ that 
they are despiMd by soulless drudgeiL They are, 



every one of them, passionately in love with tke 
queen-bee. These twothousana or so are aH ena- 
moured of the one solitary female who exists in tbis 
blessed community. She is wooed and won. in ^ 
air, miles and miles away above mortal ken ; and jittk 
as in the grand old fairy tales, the favoured lovecs ol 
this enchanting princess never live to boast o£ their 
happiness. You may see hundreds of them whidisg 
up m>m the entrance of the hive into the blue emm^ 
rean, and pr^wntly the ^ueen-bee herself — ^like the 
monarch of Lilliput, conspicuoua by her length, sJbon 
her fellows — majestic, Junonic, takes her mystexioiB 
fli^t skyward alsa She knows not whicn of her 
smtors will be waiting for her— doubtlesi wiA 
bended knee, althoush there is nothing to pat it on— 
nor the spot where uie will meet with him, for then 
is no making tr3rsting-place in the realms of spaoa 
Zephyr alone, remembering perhaps his young da|n 
with Aurora, conducts her to some happy bee m 
viewless air. Is not this a true poem? And tib 
voung courtier that never comes back to hive agpin— 
by which alone the rest know whom to envy — is not 
he a fit and tragical hero ? But better so, Maybe(e), 
than to live on an unfavoured drone until the late 
autumn, then to be stung to death by the labonring* 
claases, lest one should help to eat that winter stors 
which one has been too high and mighty to help t» 
gather! 

These democrats, however, are to their soveremi 
lady the queen, loyal to their backbone, or 'wouldoe 
so, did they not happen to be invertebrate *»']**t*i^ 
The very emblem of royalty in old Egypt was » beig 
by reason, doubtless, of this very devotion. Whenew 
the queen moves about the hive, she is attended by a 
volunteer body-guard, as tiny, but as assidnous as 
they who waited upon Titania's self, and who tsks 
chsirge of her majesty's ^ggs as soon as tiiey an 
deposited. Even if a strange queen-bee is introduced 
into the hive, their respect for her office is so gres^ 
that the inhabitants do not dip their stincs in her 
royal blood, but content ihemselves with hedginff htf 
closely round until she is suffocated, or else they nuin 
her to death like another Duke of Albany. The oueesr 
bee herself, however, brooks no rival near her UkronSi 
Immediately after her election, her first idea is to put 
to death, after the oriental example, all other membeis 
of the royal family. The very infants in the cradles 
are not spared, and unless the w^orking-bees prevent 
it by incessant watchfulness, the cocoons of the royal 
babes are made their winding-sheets. Even while 
employed in thus curbing the despotism of their 
sovereign, however, her subjects are as deferential to 
her as any policeman to an intoxicated M.P. Thof 
merely stimd round the cells, and remark : ' Kot this 
way, your maiesty. We are very sorry, but most 
perform our auty. No admittance to tiie nurseiy 
even on business. Infanticide is resi)ectfully pro- 
hibited.' Even if this murder of the Innocents is 
accomplished, however, there is no lack of succsssocs 
to the crown, or royal leaders to an emigrant swam 
The bees not only elect but make tneir queem 
They have only got to enlarge an ordinary cell, whidi 
an infant workmg-bee woiud otherwise have been 
bom into, and, lo I out of the common egg a prinosss> 
royal makes her appearance. Thus, as in chei% 
a pawn may be exchanged for a queen. The 
faculty for government all depends upon the dimen< 
sions of the cradle. In the bee- world, therefore, thsrs 
are no incapables at the head of affairs, as we see is 
Austria, Spain, or Na])les, but the talents accompany 
the titles. What a grand House of Lords misht be 
composed of such a hereditary peerage as t£is, ol 
* senators bom' and produced wholesale by some 
beneficent hatching apparatus ! A comparison of the 
bee- world with our own, seldom turns out» alas! to 
the advantage of the latter. 

Hitherto, we have been, as it were, in fairyland* 
settling, like the bees themselves, only upon the 



J 



CHAMBERS'S JOUBNAL. 



TO 



objects that meat please ms ; bnt, uuieeii. nil bee 
matters are cliarmliig, except their stings, Bad the 
nberest facts about them seem to partake oE the 
marvcttouB. Let us end with a woaderfol statement 
culled from the namphlet we liav« already mentianed, 
bj Dr Mackeone upon the ilanai)emenl of Bas.' 

' And DDK- we come to the eitraordiaoiy and 
iovaluable discovery of M. Gelien, a Swiss clergymiin 
^namely, that should we add ercD four stiwks of 
bees to oar hive No. 1 in October, Oiejfiw stockj will 
consume no mora honey than No. 1 would h»vB done 
if left alone 1 

' 1 was myself quite incredoloiu in this matter, till, 
by many an experiment, I proved it to be positiveiy 
and always trae. 

' The reasoa of it will piobsbty erer ramun a lecret, 
hardly to be solved by tbe iii^gntioa that the nev- 
comers feel a acmple ai to eatiDg the honey tliey had 
no hand in collecting. 

' But, whatever be the reason, the conseqiieDca 
that if there ever was ao excuse once fbr kUling 
bees, oasnredly there can be none noin; ance, e 
if no single hive has enough of honey, we can easily 
feed it to the proper weint, and then add to it the 
beca from hives that womd otherwise have periabed 



hunger. 



■We 






. the woiBt hooey-j^ears, 

always insure one or more rtnina bives, certain to 
do well and Bwarm early, when aU others, neglected 
as asusi by their owners, who have never baud of 
this management, will havB died.' 

And we wonder what the Political Economist will 
bave to say to iJiaL 



ON GUAED. 
I coDTia that on the night wliea the Knndred-and- 
cinth dined with na, I took a great deal more alcoholic 
drink thau I «heu]d have done. Mr Gongh wonld soy, 

that was veiy wrong ; I reply, that he is very right. 
Mr G. might add, that if there was no such stiiff as 
beer, wine, or spirits to be had, I could uot have so 
erred, and tlut| therefore, we should pass a Maine 
Liquor Law. I reply that, by the same reasoning, all 
hoises sbonld bo converted into sausages, to prevent 
people from ruining themselves on tiie turf ; 
money, which is the root of iJI evil, should at one 
plucked out of hnmiD institutionB ; that if there 
nn such thing as marria^, there could be no such 
thing as divorce ; and that a conununjty of goods 
would prevent the possibility of theft. 
I plead eitenuoting circumstances : my present life 
I was so new to me. Sii rnonths previously, I had beto 
a qaiet, dreamy, middle-aged married man, living in 
the country, and devoted to entomology, when there 
Came that telegram from the heights of Alma, which 
rave the combative bnmp of every man and boy in 
England such a macnetic thrill that it has not left off 
tingling yet, and a bint from onr lord -lieutenant made 
me accept a commission in the militia. I was now a 
smart, ^y, young bachelor lieutenant [I hod still a wife 
■omewfiere, but was there not a sentry on the barrack- 
gate?], one of the garrison of Eddystone, and, on this 
particular evening, president of the mesa. Our guests 
were officers of the line, who had just returned from 
India, and were soon going out to the Crimea, and I 
had to drink champagne with every one of litem; and 
I appeal to the soberest of men — to you, sir — whether 
you could allow a cold, reasonable, heairtleas, heeltap 
to rcmaiit in your glass when you were drinking to a 
man who, in a few weeks, was to be shot at in your 
gnarreL And, after all, I was not very far gone ; 
it is tme that I sang a song: but I went to bed 
Tmaadsted, wound up my watch, and pulled off my 
boiTtB. I also remember my last thonghts before 
gobg to sleep, which were, that I was ^ad there was 



■ BlickwcKxl, ZdlalnrKh. 



uo e;irly parade neit morning, hut sorry that the 
room woald co round and round, and round ""1 
round, like d dry Maelstriim. 

I had two leniarkable dreams that nigbt Fiist, I 
sat in a tower in Jerusalem, which was being battered 
by the Romans, and at each huvy tJiud, tliud of the 
ram, I felt the wails tremble and shake, but did not 
care how soon they fell, for we had been out of water 
for a month. Then I was onco more a Uttle boy at 
school, and very thirsty ; at a short distance off, I 
could see the pastry -cook's, with 'Iced Lemonade' 
written in letters of gold npon the window- jiaije. and, 
lo 1 a thrice happy youth was draining a goblet thereof 
with an engeroeas which raised my dSaire for drink to 
madness ; but between the spot where I stood and the 
coveted draught wasa blank wall, and at liftccn paces 
therefrom stood a row o£ tifth-fam boys, with teouis- 
balls in their hands. Thump, thump, whack, thump 
came those balls about my ears, aa, crouched against 
the wall, I — 1 woke, and discovered that some one 
was knocking, with the regular single punch of a 
Nosmyth hammer, at the door, and that my mouth 
and throat were too j)anihed to tell him to come in. 
However, I managed to utter oome inarticulate cry, 
which was properly nnderstood, and Sergeant Thom- 
son entered the room, closed the door, iiroiigbt his 
heels together, and saluted. Like on old soldier and 
an intelligent man as he is. Sergeant Thomson rightly 
interpreted my ghinoe at the cupboard, and g<ung 
thither, he proiduced a bottle of soda-water. 

Pop I wobble, wobble, fisach !— and the sensalaoai of 
years were crawded into the time it would have taken 
to count five ; for those few seconds, I was in Paradiae, 
but the sergeant soon dashed me to the earth. 

' Yon are for guard, sir,' said he, taking ths empty 
tumbler from my hand. 

'For gimid!— I !' 

' Yes, air ; Mr Arundel was taken ill last night, and 
yon vome next. The adjutant aays you must be oo 
the square in half an hour.' 

'But, but — I have never been on guard; that is, I 
have only been as supernumerary.' 

' Moat make a beginning, sir.' 

' I hope 1 am under a captain. Is it the Dock-yard ! ' 

'No, sir, Lockman Dook — the Magazine, as '''~ 

' Ah, well, the sergeant will tell me what to 
who is he ! ' 

' Don't know, sir ; we don't find the guard.' 

■ What 1 and who do, then !' 

■The marines, sir, 1 believe;' and he salntsd and 

Giddy and ill aa I was, I had to be on the square 
in half an hour — /, who generally take an hour t< 

Oar adjutant, who looked after his officers as a ca 
after her kittens, or the captain of a coUcge-boat after 
hil orew, joined me as I left the barrack-gate; and 
poured advice and encouraeemeat into my ear. " 
told me that I knew all I had to do, becausa we '. 
practised it previously, reminding me how we ', 
gone about our own barrack square rcLcvine ii 
ginary guards and visiting fancy sentries; tnen 
explam^ everything minutely, iniormod me that I 
could not moke a mistake, it was all so very aimple, 
but dam;>ed this encouraging assurance with the 
reminder, that the general was very mrticular, and that 
any blunder of mine would be a disgrace to tlie jegi- 
mont ; and so we arrived at the paiade. There stood 
the difcrent guards in a long red line ; there v/ens the 
colours, and the band, and the brigade- major ; and 
there, in the distance, overwatcliing the nroceedinea 
like a grim Jnpiter, the awfol general ; and there, too, 
were a select body of bdiea. nursery -maids, and chil- 
dren, who bod turned out thus early to see the show, 
which was pretty enough to those who were not actors 
who, being such actora, knew their ports, 
-' - -'- ' - J- ->-— I fell in, and the band 




played, and the colours were paraded up and down, 
and I got on pretty well until we arrived at a part of 
the performance where the officem had to march ri^ht 
across the square, in slow time, to their respective 
guards. Now, I can keep step very well when in the 
ranks, because I move my legs when the others do, 
but my bump of time is, or ought to be, a dead-level ; 
and stepping with the band, now that I was all alone, 
was to me as physically impossible as waltzing had 
always been, so that, whenever I glanced at the 
officer of the adjoining guard, I foimd I was out of 
step, and changed feet ; and as this happened pretty 
often, my progress became one continuous chass^t 
which must nave given me an air of dancing across the 
parade. But this was not all : my head was in such 
a whirl that I could not march straight to my front, 
so that when at last I reached the red line before me, 
I found that I had somehow ed^ed off to the wrong 
guard, and the howls of the bngade-major, while I 
was running ignominiously about, trying to find my 
place, were something frightful to listen to. 

At last, the trooping was over, and as all the guards 
marched off, I felt happier; nobody could bmly or 
interfere witli me now, for I was in command ; and as 
we tramped through the streets, I felt at least two 
inches taller, especially on passing a bow- window 
where three of the loveuest 

*Howl-l-lt!* roared a voice of thunder, which 
brought us up as sharp as if an iron wall had suddenly 
sprung up before us. 

I jiunped so that I dropped my sword. 

When I had picked it up, I discovered that an 
individual with a red face and gray whiskers, dressed 
in uniform, with a cocked-hat and a brass scabbard, 
and mounted on a powerful big-boned horse, was 
louring at me. 

*Why the orcus did you not carry arms to me, 
sir-r-r-r? eh?* 

It is impossible to convey any idea of the accent he 
gave to that * eh ? * I nearly dropped my sword again. 

* I beg your pardon, sir,* said I ; * I did not see'- 

* Then you ought to have seen, sir,' he . barked, 
and dicing his spurs into his horse, vanished like a 
flash of lightning. Who he was, what his rank, or 
whence he came, I know not, neither do I care. 
But a glance at the bow- window shewed me that 
my discomfiture had proved a source of mirth to the 
occupants thereof, and I felt bitterly towards tiie 
individual with the gray whiskers and powerful 
voice. As I could not sink into the earth, a course 
I should certainly have preferred to adopt, there was 
nothing for it but to march on, and in due time we 
reachea the gates of the Lockman Dock, through 
which we stepped in slow time, with carried arms, the 
adjutant's directions coming into my head one by one 
as I wanted them. The guard-room was situated on 
the right, just inside the gates, and the old guard was 
posted at open order in m)nt of it ; I knew that the 
new guard must be drawn up facing them, so I led 
my men solemnly on. 

' To the right form, sir ! ' cried the sergeant in a 
loud whisper, but I did not quite catch his meaning, 
and so thought it simpler to go on a little further. 

* Halt — front ! ' cned I, and they halted and 
fronted ; but, alas, their backs were turned to the old 
guard, in whose ranks, I think, I heard an insubor- 
dinate giggle. 

However, I coimter-marched my men, and then the 
old guard presented arms to us, and we presented 
arms to the old guard; and some of the new guard 
were marched off to relieve the sentries, and I 
apologised to the old guard officer, a youth of 
eighteen, who graciously patronised me, and told me 
that I should do better another time. He also kindly 
^ve me a tip for the Cambridgeshire Stakes, and 
imparted other valuable information, until, all his 
sentries being gathered in, he marched his party off, 
and behind him were closed and barred those gates 



beyond which it was unlawful for me to pass for 
twenty -four hours. 

As a general rule, the fact of being confined in any 

I)articular place, however pleasant, would make me 
ong to get out of it, but at present I had no audi 
wish, for the novelty of the position had a romantic 
charm about it which quite reconciled me to tite 
imprisonment. Twenty-two marines, some of then 
bronzed and decorated men, who had braved for 
several years the battle and the breeze, ifvere under 
my command ; and it was my first taste of power, for 
being a quiet man and a hen-pecked, it bad neFcr 
occurred to me to exercise authority at home. Tliei 
I was in a responsible position; no one could come 
into the dock-yard without my permission, and if he 
insisted on forcing his way by climbing over the wall 
or otherwise, I might — might I order bim to be 
bayoneted ? Yes ; 1 might certainly do so, and the 
sentry would probably obey me, but should I be hnxig 
forgiving such an oraer ? 

TmB being a point worthy of serious consideration, 
I took the Doaixl of orders down from the mantel- 
piece, and "seating myself on a truckle-bed, which, 
with a table, two chairs, an inkstand, a pen, a grate, a 
coal-scuttle, and a broken poker, formed the fumiture 
of the guard-room, commenced an investigation of the 
duties of my position, which led to a further revezie 
upon my present dignity, and the magnitude of tiie 
interests confided to my charge ; one ot them being a 
powder-magazine of so ticklish a constitution, thai 
the smoking of a pipe in the guanl-room, a quarter d 
a nule off, could not be indulged in without running 
the risk of blowing up half the town, with a fur 
proportion of those gun-boats and frigates for which 
we pay such a tidy littie bill every year; and the 
idea of the bare possibility of thie taxes of the countiy 
being increased by any such negligence of mine, made 
me Judder. While cogitating in this way, I be^an 
to experience certain uneasy sensations in the region 
of the stomach, which by and by resolved themsSvoB 
into a yearning for tea, and bread and butter, and in 
due time it occurred to me that I had not break&stcd. 
What was to be done ? I had not seen my servaat 
before leaving the barrack square, and as I had 
selected the laa for his honesty rather than his intd- 
li^nce, I knew he woidd never come to look after me 
without express orders to that effect. I must have 
patience; but yet, what was the use of that? Patience 
IS a very good thing for the toothache, because one lives 
in hopes of its going off ; but hunger never * goes o£' 

Well, well, it was no great hardship after idl to go 
without breakfast for once. The worst of it was, that 
the difficulty would recur at dinner-time. 

These dismal reflections were broken in upon by 
the sergeant, who appeared at the doorway, ana aaked 
if I would choose to visit the sentries, which I forth- 
with began to do; and as I varied the amuaement j 
by investigations of all the objects of interest in 
the place, it took me a couple of hours to go the 
rounds. First of all, I came to a large building where 
boiler-plates were being drilled roimd the edges with 
small holes for the rivets, and I stood for a long time 
watching the punch pressing out the littie circular 
bits of iron with that case and neatness peculiar to 
the irresistible force of steam, till a workman of 
whom I asked some (question remarked, that 'one 
would think it was gomg into so much cheese,' and 
the mention of that comestible was too much for a 
famished Welshman. Not far from this worki^op^ I 
came upon my first sentry, who ported arms and 
proceeded to repeat his orders, which were printed vug 
m his sentry-box. There were under his care a crow- 
bar, which he was to give up when requested to the 
dock-yard police, and a life-buoy, which he was to 
throw to any one whom he saw struggling in . the 
water. He was also to challenge any one who 
approached his post after dark ; to fire off a blank 
cartridge in case of fire ; and above all, to aUow no 



li 



w 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



77 



L 



one to smoke either on the wharf or on board the 
shipping moored off it. All this he repeated in a 
breath, like a child saying its catechism ; and I passed 
on, and spent half an hour in watching the prodigies 
performed by a Vulcanic hammer, though, if Vulcan 
can hit half as hard as that, I pity poor Venus when 
he cornea home jealous and nectary. Then came 
mi interview with another sentry ; then I watched 
the process of razeeing a three-decker that would 
not sail into a frigate that would : after which 
came more sentries, all of whom told their little 
tale so exactly in the same way, that I g[pw weary, 
and determined to * dodge' the next. This was a 
tall, sturdy, red-faced lad, evidently not long from 
the plougn, who, when I came upon him round 
a corner, was standing gazing into his sentry-box, 
reading the orders there printed up, evidently cram- 
ming tor his approaching examination. On hearing 
my footsteps, he faced about, and ported his arms. 

* Do you know your orders ?* said I. 

* Eessir,' he replied. 

* Well, then, if a man fell off that vessel into the 
water, and you saw that he was drowning, what 
would you do ? ' 

Poor fellow ! I never saw more utter and hope- 
less bewilderment expressed on mortal face. I 
repeated the question in as clear and simple a way as 
I could. 

* Give 'un the crow-bar !' he at length replied. 

I tried to explain to him the inutility of a crow-bar 
to a drowning man. 

* Fire a blank cartridge at 'un ! ' was his second 
guess, and I gave him up in despair. 

Only after that, I did not walk so close to the edge 
of the quay as I had been previously doing. 

At some httle distance from the workshops and 
dzy docks, but close to the water-edge, stood a square, 
low, windowless stone-building, encompassed on the 
land'Side by a dry moat, in which perambulated a 
marine. This stone-building was the Magazine, and 
as my board of orders directed me to examine whether 
there were any marks of lucifer-matches on the 
walls, I descended into the moat, and conmienced a 
careful scrutiny. 

* The door is round here, sir ! ' cried the astonished 
sergeant, eyidentl^r thinking that I was searching for 
the entrance, which was certainly small On my 
rejoining him, he pulled an iron handle, which pro- 
duced a distant ^ostly tinkle, and it was not with- 
out a certain trepidation that I heard a footstep, and 
the jingling of many keys, for I expected, on entering, 
to find myself in a low dark vault piled with loose 
fftmpowder, as a granary is with com, and was rather 
disappointed although relieved, when the guardian of 
the place ushered me into an open coui^ard, sur- 
rounded by stone cells with iron doors. 'Wnen I had 
interrogated the sentry who was pacing this court, I 
was condacted througn two ^tes, which were care- 
fully locked behind us, to a dismal place where were 
a fiiffht of steps leading down to the water, and here 
anouier sentiy was j^wted, whom I pitied; for I 
should not myself like to be locked out from the 
wcnid by three doors in such a place. But what of 
the man with the keys, who let me in and conducted 
me round? Does he Hve in that place ? Has he a wife 
and family anywhere? Is his life insured; and if so, 
is it in a fire or life office, and what premium does 
he pay? Has he ever known the joys of tobacco ? Is 
ii'la^md for him to feed upon anjrthing more inflam- 
matory than the Bevidenta Arabica? ^ 

I own that I breathed more freely as, stepping out 
of the Magazine, and taking my sword, which I had 
had to leave outside, from the sergeant, I bent my 
st^ back to the guard-room. 

The walk had been highly interesting, but it had 
sharpened my appetite wofully. 

I had no books, but my predecessor had fortunately 
left behind him a plentiful supply of writing-paper, 



with which I ])roceeded to draw up the report which 
had to be sent in on the following morning, culling 
the different parts of it from various forms which 
were hung about the room, with a glorious uncer- 
tainty about what was for my own private instruc- 
tion, and what for the official information of my 
superiors. This whiled away some time, and then an 
admiral came into the yard, and the guard had to be 
turned out in his honour ; alter which it was time to 
revisit the sentries ; and so the day wore away. Night 
came, and I was left alone with two taUow dips, and 
my own reflections, which were those of a pike. Yet 
I might have sat down to a dinner d la Husse, for was 
it not open to me to devour those tallow dips? True ; 
but I am a man who thinks slowly, and must confess 
that the idea did not occur to me. I was now tired 
as well as hungry, which would have been the greatest 
of boons, could I have gone to sleep, but this l dared 
not do, for the field-officer might come on his rounds 
at any minute, and I had made mistakes enough in 
the morning, without adding to those misdemeanours a 
lack of vigilance, which would keep a superior wait- 
ing at night ; so I selected the hardest chair, placed a 
pebble on it, laid my sword and shako on the table in 
such a position that they could be caught up at a 
moment s notice, and commenced a ^ame at tit-tat- 
toe, single-handed ; but finding that this pastime of my 
childhood was not so exciting as memory had painted 
it, I exchanged it for the solution of veiy long and 
hard sums, xhe officer I had relieved in the morning 
had informed me^ that the F. 0. generally came at 
about midnight, so that there was not so much time 
to kill; and though the hours seemed to be paying 
me the compliment of approaching in slow time, 
twelve o'clock came at last. No rounds. 

One o'clock. No rounds. 

I then remembered that there was a ball going on 
at the port-admiral's, and that, most likely, tne field- 
officer was there, and would take me on his way 
home; so, with a sigh at the thought that at that 
moment he was probably sitting down to supper, I 
began another sum. 'If a major who has dmed at 
seven, and danced till one, can eat two wings of a 
chicken, three oimces of ham, four plovers' eggs, and 
a roll ; how much can a subaltern, who has fasted for 
thirty hours, eat ? ' 

Two o'clock. The pebble beginning to make itself 
unpleasant, I unwisely removed it, and almost 
instantly lost sight of paper and figures. 

* Guard, turn out ! ' cned the sentry. 

I jumpied up, overturned the taole, grasped my 
sword and shako, which I put on hind-side before, 
rushed out of the room, and just reached my place 
in time to receive the F. O. proj)erly. 

* All right, sir ?' said he. 

* All right, sir,' said L , 

* All present?' 

* All present.' 

* Good-night ;' and he turned his horse's head. At 
that moment, an unlucky marine who had been unable, 
on first waking, to fina his musket, came tumbling 
out of the guara-room, and took his place in the ranks. 
The officer turned upon me like a wasp. 

* I thought you said they were all present, sir I ' 
said he. 

* I did not see' I began. 

* Then you ought to have seen ; mind you are more 
careful another time.' 

This was the second time, in twenty-four hours, that 
I had been told, before all my men, that I * ought to 
have seen ; ' and this time the reprimand came from a 
man at least five years my junior, for I had recognised 
an old school-fellow who had been my fag. However, 
I was too sleepy to suffer much from shame or indig- 
nation, so I paid one more visit to my sentries, and 
threw myself on the truckle-bed, where I slept hard 
until roused in the morning by an orderly wno had 
come for my report. 



78 



GHAMBEBS^S JOUBNAL. 



Alas, alas 1 in knockm;^ orer the table the night 
before, I had spilt the ink all over that unhappy 
document, and there was no time to copy it 1 It was 
hurried away, like poor Hamlet's father, with all its 
blots uix>n it, and was consequently doomed, like that 
famous ghost, to wander about and haunt me ; for, as 
it turned out, I had by no means seen the last of that 
orderly, who kept bringing me curt messages aad 
rejected manuscnpts all day. However, he went ofif 
for the time, and shortly i^terwards, the new guard 
arrived, and soon I was wending my happy way to 
barracks and to brbakfast. 



ABOUT DOCTOR& 

On entering the chamber of a French marquis one 
morning, whom he had attended through a very 
dangerous illness, Dr Bouvart was thus accosted : 
' ** Good-day to you, Mr Bouvart ; I feel quite in 
spirits, and think my fever has left me.'* 

** I am sure it has," replied Bouvart, dryly. ^ The 
very first expression you used convinces me of it" 

*• Pray, explain yourself." 

** Nothing is easier. In the first days of your 
illness, when your life was in danger, I was your 
dearest friend ; as you began to get better, I was 
your (^x)d Bouvart ; and now I am Mr Bouvart : 
depend upon it, yiou are quite recovered."' 

It is but too certain that the behaviour of a large 
class of society towards their Doctors affords a parallel 
to that of iJiis French nobleman. Our * county 
families' cannot make up their minds even to visit 
their doctor in the country, through which neglect he 
is often thrown upon the companionship of farmers 
and other persons of no education, to whose condition 
he sooner or later assimilates himself, and is thereby, 
with reason, placed out of the * gilded pale' of society. 
But when sickness comes to the * Park,' and the doctor 
visits thenif there are no bounds to the friendly 
demonstrations of the county families. The * best 
circles' exhibit their want of good sense as well as of 
good taste in indulging in this haughtiness. Even if 
the doctor be a dull fellow, skilled in nothing but his 
profession, he has an advantage over the soldier, 
sailor, clergyman, and lawyer in the same melancholy 
position. What he does know must needs be interest- 
ing to his hearers, not only since they may themselves 
be victims to the very miseries he describes, but 
because his experience of life, however prosaically 
narrated, must needs awaken interest in any heart 
that can feel for others. The professor of Healing 
has a claim to the respect and honour of every man. 
His object, unlike that of everybody else, with the 
exception of the minister of religion, is unmixed benevo- 
lence ; and even the minister does not sptroad, as Ae 
does, his benefits broadcast over Christian and 
Heathen. It is true that there are quacks, and 
pompoiis fools, and bears, and flatterers of the great 
to be found among medicine-men, as elsewhere ; but 
if we would know how gentle, and kind, and generous 
the majority of them arc, we must ask the Poor. 
However unjustly, though not unnaturally, jealous of 
the Bich the poor man may bo in his hour of deepest 
want, his wrath excepts the doctor, who has been his 
friend when all the world deserted bim. A stin^ 
or grasping doctor is exceedingly rare, although 
there is no obvious reason why such should not hug 
his money as closely as the attorney or the Ebrew 
Jew ; he certainly works as hard for it as any man. 

The famous Dr John Lcttsom b^gan life in the 



accepted, and over the child's grave, in Oovent Garden 
Churchyard, was placed a stone sculptured with the 
figure of a child laying one hand on his side, and 
saying, " Hie ddor," and pointing with the other to 
a death's head, on which was engraved ** Ibi 
medicus.'" 

There is a long period, however, in the early career 
of all medical practitioners, when no man takes tiie 
trouble to libel them, and success seems far off indeed. 
It is, however, above all thinss neoessary to appear 
to have success, and to be in brilliant circumstanceik 
'Who has not heard,' says Mr Jeafieson in the 
amusing volumes now before us,* *Qf the «iarliwg 

*A Bock abotd Doctors. By J. C. Jcaffh»on. Hurtt and 
Blaskttt 



West Indies by liberating all his slaves, who formed 
his sole fortune ; he was the founder of more than 
twelve of the principal philanthropic institutiona of 
London ; and in spite of the immense ineouEie derived 
from his profesnon, he had to part, at the eloee of hit 
life, witii his beloved country-seat, because he had 
impoverished himself by lavish generosity to tfa* 
unfortunate. *As Lettsom was travelling in the 
neighbourhood of London, a highwayman stopxied hii 
carriage, and, putting a pistol into the window, 
demanded him to surrender his money. The falter- 
ing voice and hesitation of the robber shewed that he 
had only recently taken to his perilous vocation, and 
his appearance shewed him to be a young man who 
had moved in the gentle ranks of life. Lettsom quickly 
responded tiiat he was sorry to see such a well-lookiiig 
young man pursuing a course which would inevit* 
ably brine him to ruin; that he would give him 
freely all 'uie money he had about him, and would try 
to put him in a better way of life, if he liked to call on 
him in the course of a few days. As the doctor said 
this, he gave his card to tiie young man, who turned 
out to M another victim of the American war. He 
had only made one similar attempt on the road 
before, and had been driven to lawless action by 
unexpected pennilessness. Lettsom endeavoured in 
vain to procure aid for his prot6g6 from the com- 
missioners for relieving the American sufferers; bat 
eventually the queen, interested in the young man'i 
case, presented him with a commission in the amv ; 
and in a brief military career, that was cut short by 
yellow fever in the West Indies, he distinguished 
himself so much that his name appeared twice in i^ 
Qcaette: 

So great a success as Lettsom's, although com- 
bined with such benevolence, was not to be f o rg i ven 
by the rest of the Faculty — ^who form, by the by, 
by far the most quarrelsome and scandalous fratemitf 
extant — and the good doctor was, of course, accused 
of copious manslaughter ; to this charge, he good- 
humouredly replied m the well-known lines : 

When patients comes to I, 

I phyaica, bleeds, and meats 'em ; 
Then — if they choose to die, 

What's that to It—I lets 'cm.— (I. Lkttsom.) 

The celebrated Dr Kadcliffe outdid his brethren in 
the manufacture of scandal, by uttering a libel upon II 
Dr .Gibbons (whom he alwa3rs called Nurse Gibbons) 
not only in words and printer's ink, but in endurinc 
monumental stone. *John Bancroft, the emin^ 
surgeon, who resided in Bussell Street, Covent Garden^ 
had a son attacked with inflammation of the lungi^ 
Gibbons was called in, and prescribed the most violent 
remedies, or rather the most virulent irritants. Tlie 
child became rapidly worse, and Badcliffe was eent 
for. "I can do nothing, sir," observed the doctor, 
after visiting his patient, ''for the poor little hofm 
preservation. He is killed to all intents and purpoeec 
but if vou have any thoujghts of putting a stone over 
him, I 11 help you to an inscription." The offer 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



7» 



dtxsior who taught smging mider the moustachioed 
and bearded guise of an Italian oount) at a yoong 
ladies* school at Clapham, in order that he might 
make his daily west^end caOs between 3 t.il and 
8 p.H. in a well-bui^ brougham drawn by a Beiy 
steed from a hreiy-stable T There was one noted 
case of a young physician who provided himsetf with 
the means of figuring in a brougnam during the Msy- 
fair morning, by occupyine the box, and condescend- 
ing to the carb and duties of a flyman during the 
hours of danmess. It was the same carriage at both 
periods of the four-and-twenly hours. He lolled in 
it by daylight, and sat on it by gadight The poor 
fellow's secret was disoorered by forgetting himself 
on one occasion, and jumping tn when he ought to 
have jumped Ol^ or jumping an when he ou^t to 
have jumped in,* 

The doctors who made the neatest fortimes in 
old times were mostly fashicmable quacks, such as 
St John Lon^ but now and then some very vulgar 
practitioners indeed came in for a share. Mrs Mapp, 
the bone-setter, was enabled to pay her professional 
visits with four horses and outrideis; and Joanna 
Stephens, the 'wise woman,* actually obtained five 
thousand pounds from parliament for divulging the 
secret of her famous powder — made of calcined e^- 
shells and snail-shells---althoiigh the time was comm^ 
when it grudged a reward to Jenner, and hag^ed 
about the purchase of Hunter's Museum. I^he 
Elizabethan surgeon, Bulleyn, must have been as 
great a quack as either of these, although he may 
not have bean so wdl aware of it, since he believed 
in pearl electuaries, and even had a famous recipe of 
his own for the concocting of them. * ElecttLorium de 
Oemmia. — Take two drachms of white perles; two 
little peeces of saphyre ; jacinth, comeline, emerauldes, 
cranettes, of each an ounce ; setwal, the sweate roote 
doronike, the rind of pomeoitron, mace, basel seede, 
of each two drachma; of redde ccorall, amber, shaving 
of ivory, of each two drachms; rootes both of white 
and red behen, ginger, long peper, spicknard, folium 
indicum, saffron, cardamon, of each one drachm; of 
troch. diarodon, lignum aloes, of each half a small 
handful; cinnamon, salinga, zurubeth, which is a 
kind of setwal, of each one drachm and a half ; thin 
pieces of gold and sylver, of each half a scrujJe ; of 
musk, haS a drachm. Make your electuary with 
honey emblici, which is the fourth kind of mirobalans 
with roses, stxained in cquall partes, as much as will 
sufl&ce. This healeth cold diseases of ye braine, 
harte, stomack. It is a medicine proved agunst the 
tremblynge of the harte, fayntin^ and souning, the 
weaknes of the stomacke, pensivenes, sdituines. 
Kings and noUe men have used this for their com- 
fort. It causeth them to be bold-sprited, the body 
to smell wel, and ingendreth to the face good coloure.' 
Mr Jeaffireson justly remarks, that Dr Bulleyn was 
quite as worthy of bein^ suspended from practice as 
that unfortunate physician of modem tunes, who, 
during the railway panic in *46, thus prescribed for 
a nervous lady: *A Qreat Western, 350 shares; 
Eastern Counties, North Middlesex, a— a 1050; Mft 
fiaust. 1. Om. noc. cap.' 

The ladies have been always great admirers of the 
doctors, and have married two or three of the more 
fashionable ones, in spite of themselves. Bt John 
Lon^ scarcely saved himself upon the plea of having 
a wife already; Sir John £hot painted a death's 
head upon the panels of lus carriage to scare away 
his patronesses, in vain; and XS* Cadogan was 
espoused to a lady he did not like. She was very 
jealous, of course, and entertained besides the agree- 
able idea that her husband would one day poison her. 
*0n one occasion, when surrounded by her friends, 
snd in the presence of her lord and master, she fell on 
ber back in a state of h3rBtezical spasms, exclaiming : 
" Ahi he has killed me at last I am poisoned 1 " 

** Poisoned I " cried the lady-iriends, taming up the 



whites of their eyes. " Oh! gncioas goodness I — yoa 
have done it, doctor ! " 

**What do you accuse me of?" asked the doctor 
with surprise. 

**I accuse you — of — ^killing me — ee!** responded the 
wife, doing her best to imitate a death-struggie. 

"Ladies," answered the doctor with admirable 
nonchalanoB, bowinc to Mrs Oadogan's bosom sbso- 
ciatea, ** it is perfectly false. You are quite welcome 
to open her at once, and then you'U discover the 
calumny."* 

This adoration of the fair sex was never paid, how- 
ever, until the object of it had achieved eminence and 
jiopularity, and were were many humiliations to be 
undergone before that pinnacle was to bo attained: 
not the least of these (and they occur unto this day) 
were those encountered in the canvassing for medical 
appointments. * While a candidate for a place on the 
staff of St Bartholomew's Hospital, Dr Barrowby 
entered the shop of one of the governors, a grocer on 
Snow-Hill, to solicit his influence and vote. The 
tradesman, bursting with importance, and anticipat- 
ing tiie pleasure m getting a yery low bow from m 
gentieman, strutted up the shop, and, with a mixture 
of insolent jiatronage and insulting familiarity, cried: 
" Well, friend, and what is your business ? " Bitfrowby 
paused for a minute, cut mm right through with the 
glance of his eye, and then said, quietly and slowly: 
'* I want a pound of plums." Confused and blushinff, 
the grocer aid up the plums. Barrowby put them m 
his pocket, and went away witiiout askmg the fellow 
for his vote.' This same aoctor is the hero of another 
electioneering story. Lord Trentham and Sir Geoige 
Vandeput were contesting Westminster. * Barrowby, 
a vehement supporter of the latter, was then in 
attendance on the notorious Joe Weatherby, master 
of the '* Ben Jonson's Head," in Russell Street, who 
lay in a perilous state, emaciated by nervous fever, 
^urs Weatherby was deeply afflicted at her husband's 
condition, because it rendered him unable to yote for 
Lord Tr^tham. Towards the close of the pollings 
days, the doctor, calling one day on his patient, to 
his great astonishment found him up, and almost 
dressed by the nurse and her assistants. 

"Heyday! what's the cause of this?" exclaims 
Barrowby. •* Why are you up without my leave ? " 

** Dear doctor," says Joe in a broken Toice, '* I am 
going to polL" 

" To poll I " roars Bairowby, suj^posing the man to 
hold his wife's jpoHtical (Opinions; "you mean— going 
to the devil ! Get to bed, man; the cold air wiS kiO 
you. If you don't ^ into bed instantly, you 'U be 
dead before the day is out." 

" I '11 do as you bid me, doctor," was the reluctant 
answer. ** But as my wife was away for the momins^ 
I thought I couldget as far as Covent Garden chnrcE^ 
and vote for Sir Cwoi^ Vandeput." 

"How, Joe! for Sir George?^' 

"0 yes, sir; I don't go with my wife. I am a 
Sir Ckorge's man." 

' Barrowby was struck by a sudden change for the 
better in the man's appearance, and said: "Wait a 
minute, nurse. Dont puU off his stockings. Let me 
feel his pulse. Humpn — a sood firm stroke! You 
took the piUs I ordered you ?^' 

" Yes, sir ; but they made me feel very ilL" 

"Ay, so much the better; that's what I wished. 
Nurse, how did he sleep ? " 

" Charmin'ly, sir." 

" Well, Joe," said Barrowby after a few seconds* 
consideration, "if you are l>ent on going to this 
election, your mind ought to be set at rest. It *s a 
fine sunny day, and a ride will very likely do you 
good. So, bedad, I'll take you with me in my 
chariot I " 

• Delifffated with his doctor's urbanity, Weatiieihy 
was taken off in the carriage to Covent Garden, 
recorded his vote for Sir George Vandeput, was 



80 



GHAMBEBS'S JOURNAL. 



brought back in the same vehicle, and died two hours 
afterwards, amidst the reproaches of his wife and her 
friends of the court party.' 

A vote was once gained in the House of Lords in 
even a still more singular fashion. The practice of 
phlebotomy was very general in the middle of the 
last century, and the Lord Radnor of that time had 
an ezceedine fondness for letting blood from his 
friends with nis amateur lancet. Far from accepting 
a fee, of course, he was willing to remunerate such as 
were courageous enough to submit themselves to his 
treatment. Lord Chesterfield actually suffered this 
nobleman to bleed him — there being nothing what- 
ever the matter with him — ^f or the purpose of gaining 
his vote as a peer on the same evening, and his sel^ 
sacrifice was rewarded as it deserved. ' I have shed 
my blood for the good of my country,* said he, with 
literal trutL 

Of the slow promotion in medical ranks, even in the 
case of the most skilful and deserving, the earnings of 
Sir Astley Cooper afford a striking example. * In the 
first year, he netted five guineas; in the second, 
twenty-six pounds ; in the third, sixty-four ]X)unds ; 
in the fourth, ninety-six pounds ; in the fifth, a hun- 
dred i>ound8 ; in the sixth, two hundred pounds ; in 
the seventh, four hundred pounds ; in the eighth, six 
hundred and ten pounds ; and in the ninth, the year 
in which he secured his hospital appointment, eleven 
hundred pounds.' The highest amount he ever 
received in any one year was L.21,000, but for many 
years his average income was over L. 15,000. For 
going over to St Petersburg and inoculating the 
Empress Catharine and her son, in 1768, Dr Dimsdale 
received L. 12,000 down, a pension for life of L.500, 
and had the rank of a baron of the empire conferred 
upon him. A more recent emperor, of Austria, put 
down an equally royal fee in payment for his death- 
warrant. * When a-dying, the Emperor Joseph asked 
Quarin his opinion of nis case ; the physician told the 
monarch that he could not possibly live forty-eight 
hours. In acknowledgment of this frank declaration 
of the truth, the emperor created Quarin a baron, 
and gave him a pension of more than L.2000 per 
annum to support the rank with.' 

It is probable that none of our successful surgeons 
have been in reality so rude and discourteous as 
they are represented to have been, and that the im- 
pression was rather produced by the contrast of their 
independent and confident manners with the insinuat- 
ing address of their less fortunate brethren ; but cer- 
tainly Abemethy must have had a terrible reputation 
to have reduced a patient — and a female one — to such 
a state of taciturnity as this : 

'A lady on one occasion entered his consulting- 
room, and put before him an injured fincer, witiiout 
saying a word. In silence, Abemethy dr^ed the 
wound, when instantly and silently the lady put the 
usual fee on the table, and retired. In a few days 
she called again, and offered the finger for inspection. 
"Better?" asked the surgeon. "&tterl" answered 
the lady, speaking to him for the first time. Not 
another woid followed during the rest of the interview. 
Three or four similar visits were made, at the last 
of which the patient held out her finger free from 
bandages and perfectly healed. " Well ? " was Aber- 
nethy^ monosyllabic inquiry. " Well! " was the lady's 
equally brief answer. " Upon my soul, madam," 
exclaimed the delighted surgeon, **you are the most 
rational tooman I ever met torn ! " ' 

It is beyond all doubt that Abemethy, as well as 
certain other stars of the Faculty — ^both alive and 
dead — have given themselves most unnecessary airs, 
and especial^ in their intercourse with the junior 
branches of their own profession. A medical student, 
naturally audacious, or armed perhaps with the reso- 
lution of despair, did, however, under examination, 
once get the better of the great surgeon in a tourna- 
ment of words. *"What would you do," bluntly 



in<mired the surgeon, ** if a man was brought to you 
¥dth a broken leg ? " 

" Set it, sir," was the reply. 

" Good — very good — you re a very pleasant, witty 
young man; and doubtless you can tell me wiut 
muscles of my body I should set in motion if I kidoed 
you, as you deserve to be kicked, for your imper- 
tinence.' 

" You would set in motion," responded the youth 
with perfect coolness, " the flexors and extensors of 
my right arm ; for I should immediately knock yon 
down." ' 

To Abemethy's credit as an appreciator of humoar 
as well as courage, be it recorded, he passed tk 
candidate triumphantly, when a baser man wooM 
probably have pmcked him for his impudence. 



DEAD LOVE. 

We are face to face, and between us here 
Is the love we thought could never die ; 

Why has it only lived a year ? 
Who has murdered it — you or I ? 

No matter who— the deed was done 

By one or both, and there it lies : 
The smile from the lip for ever gone, 

And darkness over the beautiful eyes. 

Our love is dead, and our hope is wrecked ; 

So what does it profit to talk and rave, 
Whether it perished by my neglect, 

Or whether your cruelty dug its grave 1 

Why should you say that I am to blame, 
Or why should I charge the sin on you ? 

Our work is before us all the same, 
And the guilt of it lies between us two. 

We have praised our love for its beauty and gnoe, 
Now we stand here, and hardly dare 

To turn the face-cloth back from the face, 
And see the thing that is hidden there. 

Tet look ! ah, tliat heart has beat its last. 
And the beautiful life of our life is o'er, 

And when we have buried and left the past, 
We two, together, can walk no more. 

You might stretch yourself on the dead, and weep^ 
And pray as the Prophet prayed, in pain ; 

But not like him could you break the sleep, 
And bring the soul to the clay again. 

Its head in my bosom I can lay, 

And shower my woe there, kiss on kiss, 

But there never was resurrection-day 
In the world for a love so dead as this ! 

And, since we cannot lessen the sin 

By mourning over the deed we did, 
Let us draw the winding-sheet up to the chin, 

Ay, up till the death-blind eyes are hid ! 

Phcbbe Ca&i. 



Printed and Publislied by W. & R Chambers, 47 P*te^ 
noster Row, London, and :^59 High Street, EdinbuboB. 
Also sold by William Robertson, 23 Upper SaokviOe 
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S tit net anb ^rls. 



CONDUCTED BY WILLIAM AND ROBERT CHAMBERS. 



1. 



SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 9, 1861. 



Price 1^. 



COLD. 

anticipate a coming winter with various feel- 
ne dreadfi the Christmas bills ; another, the boys 
or the holidays; another, a new year anxious 
last ; but all men dread the cold. I know they 

I am a surgeon, and see much of its effects 
my poorer patients ; and for that reason I have 
ider how we ought to treat cold. Treat it ! you 
y — shut the door, poke up the fire, put your 
I slippers, and your body in an easy-chair, 
t like any other unbidden guest, and shut it 
'. was thinking, however, of a great class of our 
countrymen who go down to the sea in ships 
lals and whales, or up mountains to gather in the 
aced sheep, or wander about the s&eets of our 
and arc picked up stiff, senseless bundles of 
f the night-police. 

nch it matters but little that our natural phil- 
rs deny the existence of cold — ^that it is merely 
tstraction of a certain quantity of the heat 
is indispensable to animal life — ^that warmth 
ites to vitality — and that if the temperature is 
d, it may at last reach a point when it ceases 
a any effect ; but, nevertheless, these facts are 
ting. 

atmosphere is always robbing us of our 
L heat, which has an average temperature of 98 
s. If it did not do so, if the atmosphere were 
}8 degrees, we should feel it disagreeably warm, 
refer one much lower — say 60 or 65 degrees, 
low the temperature of the body may be 
d to sink with impunity, is doubtful, and seems 

7 with the individual; the robust and lively 
volving plenty of heat, enjoys a degree of cold 
makes a lean, pink-nosed, blue-lipped woman 
i miserable spectacle. Tooke, in his view of the 
n empire, says that drivers and horses suffer 
onvenience with the thermometer at 20 — 24 

8 below zero, and women stand for four or five 
with their draggled petticoats stiff with ice. 
have been noticed, however, some circumstances 

would go to shew that national hardihood 
not be always relied upon; for instance, in 
reatest experiment of the effects of cold on 
the French retreat from Russia— the Dutch 
8 of the 3d Regiment of the Grenadiers of 
ruard, consisting of 1787 men, officers and 
«, nearly all perished, as two years after, 
forty-one of them, including their colonel, 
&1 Tindal, who was wounded, had returned to 
b; while of the two other regiments of Grena- 
composed of men nearly all of whom were 
Q the south of France, a considerable number 



were saved. The Germans lost, in proportion, a 
much larger number of men than the French. 
Though many of the latter were reduced almost to 
nudity by the Cossacks having stolen their dothes, 
they did not die from the effects of cold in the 
same numbers as the Northerners, whom one would 
have expected to brave out that dreadful cam- 
paign with greater impimity. There is a singular 
mystery about the effects of cold— mysterious as 
these countries round which it consolidates its im- 
penetrable barrier. When your great natural phil- 
osopher calculates with extraordinary nicety the lawB 
of heat, we cannot follow his calculations ; how much 
more difficult, then, must it be for us surgeons to 
determine how much, not a whole body, but perhaps 
some patch of tissue, may be reduced in temperatiu^ 
with hope of its recovery. 

Take as an example now, Napoleon's army as it 
returns from Russia, and let me quote from the 
great surgeon, Baron Larrey, no less soldier than 
siu-geon : 

' The death of the men struck by cold was preceded 
by pallor of the face, by a sort of idiocy, by hesita- 
tion of speech, weakness of sight, and even complete 
loss of sensation; and in this condition some were 
inarched for a shorter or longer period, conducted by 
their comrades or their friends. Muscular action was 
visibly weakened ; they reeled on their legs as if intoxi- 
cated; weakness progressed gradually till they fell 
down, which was a certain sign of the complete extinc- 
tion of vitality. The continuous and rapid march of the 
soldiers collected into a mass obliged those who could 
not keep up to leave the centre of the column, and 
keep to the sides of the road. Once separated from 
the compact body, and left to their own resources, they 
soon lost their equilibrium, and fell into the ditches 
filled with snow, from whence it was difficult to 
remove them; they were struck suddenly with a 
painful choking, passed into a lethargy, and in a 
few seconds ended their existence. When on the 
heights of Mienedski, one of the points of Russia 
which seemed to me most elevated, many had bleeding 
from the nose. .... The external air hMd undoubt- 
edly become more rarefied, and no longer offering 
resistance to the action of the fluids, of which the 
movement is constrained by the internal vital forces 
and the expansion of the animal heat, these fluids 
passed off by the points of least resistance, which are 
generally the mucous surfaces, especially the mucous 
lining of the nose. This dei^ (from cold) did not 
seem to me a painful one; as the vital forces were 
gradually extinguished, they drew after them the 
general sensibiHty to external agencies, and with 
them disappeared the faculties of special sensation. 



82 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



I 



We found almost all the persons frozen to death 
lying on their stomachs, and with no sign of decom- 
position.* 

How did any escape? One would think that 
what was cold to one must have been equally so 
to the others. We see in a garden, after some severe 
frost, particular species of plants aSocted by it, but 
we say thd others were more hardy ; but here is one 
species of «.Tiima.l suffering so unequally, as r^ards its 
individual members, as to strike the most ordinary 
observer with surprise. 

Now, it would seem that cold affects in only two 
ways — it predisposes to the death of tissues, and it 
hUla. In the first case, the part is not more affected 
than that it is very cold ; its temperature is greatly 
lowered ; the contracted blood-vessels allow but little 
of tiie vital fluid to pass. At this moment, it seems 
that but a small increase in the temperature may 
endanger the life of the part> or even of the whole 
body. Let us quote again from Baron Larrey. 
' Towards the end of the winter of 17d5-96, when I 
was with the army of the Eastern Pyrenees, we passed 
suddenly from an extremely intense cold to an 
elevated temperature. A great number of the soldiers, 
especially those who were at the siege of Rosas, then 
had their feet frozen ; some advanced sentinels were 
even found dead at their post in the first hours of 
the thaw; and although we had passed fifteen or 
twenty days under the influence of the severe cold, 
none of the soldiers of the advanced posts of the si^ 
presented themselves at the ambulances of the in- 
trenchment, of whidi I was director-in-chief, until the 
date of the thaw. So in Holland, the soldiers who for 
the sake of le petit caporal stood patiently in the 
snow, did so with impunity till the nrst thaw, when 
they were attacked by gangrene. And what is this 
frost-bite ? It is a part in wmch the power of evolving 
heat and the circulation of the blood has been entirely 
destroyed ; and this most easily occurs in situations 
at a distance from the seat of circulation — ^Uie toes, 
fingers, nose, ears, &c The part, if thin, like the 
ear, may be crisp and hard, ready to break off; but 
still these frost-bitten parts are not actually irre- 
coverable ; they may be thawed, but, strange as it may 
seem, the cold man's greatest enemy \a the heat he so 
earnestly prays for. After the battle of Eylau, the 
thermometer had fallen to fourteen and fifteen dc^prees 
below zero, but not a single soldier complained of anv 
accident from the effect of cold, though, till the 9th 
of February, they had passed the nights in snow, and 
exposed to the hardest frost* General F6vrier, find- 
ing his enemies unaffected by his usual weapons, 
changed his tactics. In the night of the 9th, up went 
the temperature to three, four, and five degrees above 
zero, and the ever-active French soldiers felt them- 
selves heavy and their feet numb, troubled with pins 
and ne^es ; and on pulling off their shoes and stock- 
ings, behold ihe toes were black and dried, and a 
red blush on the instep told them that the increased 
temperature had been too much for their chilled 
extremities, and that their feet were mortifying- 
rotting off them ! They were suffering in large what 
we do in small, when we stick our cold toes to the 
bars of the grate in this cold wintry weather. We 
get some small patch of skin inflamed by the heat, 
which, in its cc4d condition, it cannot stand, and we 
call the patch a chilblain. 

John Hunter froze the ears of rabbits, then thawed 
them rapidly, and they inflamed. Woe, says Larrey, 
woe to the man benumbed with cold, if he enter too 
suddenly a warm room, or come tbo near the fire of a 
bivouac ! We lately saw a fine-looking Scotch girl with 
her feet gangrenous from cold ; she haid been damping 
linen in a tub, and feeling them cold and numb, she 
stepp^ from it into another tub which held warm 
but not by any means hot water. 



With Teard to the treatment of frost-bitten person^ 
the part affected should be rubbed with cold water or 
snow, and tiben with fluids of a medium temperature, 
in a cold room ; cautiously bring the patient into i 
warmer atmosphere, and administer sinall qnantitiei 
of cordials or warm tea, then cover him up in bed, 
and encourage perspiration. Even where the patiesl 
seems quite dead, or has Iain as if dead for days, ym 
must sive a fair trial to these remedies. When poor 
BoutiUat^ the French peasant, who awoke crying osft 
for drink after his fbur days' sleep in the snow, wm 
In^ught to his friends, they wrapped him in wem 
linen dipped in aromatic water, and this was but tio 
probably the cause of the poor fellow's feet morilfjiM 

Now, we have said that cold may not o^ 
predimoM to the death of animals or portions i 
animal tissues, but it may kill them. How ii 
slaughters its victims, we do not exactly know : wm 
sav it paralyses the heart; others think that ti» 
cold, to use a popular expression, drives the blood 
inwards, and kills by apoplexy. The irresiBtiUi 
sleepiness that creeps over a person 'lost in Iki 
snow' is well known, and has been often described; 
if once it is yielded to, death, under the forkzn ob> 
cumstances usually present, is sure to result BiBk, 
undoubtedly, it may kill at once. Persons hafe 
been found stone-dead standing upright at their 
posts, all the machinery of life having stopped at <mtb 
— the mouth half open, as it was when the last groa 
was uttered; the limbs still in the jKmtion tibfr 
assumed during life, and having undergone, throqp 
the peculiar antiseptic nature of the col^ none o£ wt 
changes we find aner other forms of death. 

Captain Warems reports to the Admiralty thai: 
' In the month of August 1775, I was sailing aboot 
77 decrees north latitude, when one morning, about 
a mue from my vessel, I saw the sea entudy 
blocked up by ice. Nothing could be seen, far as tiie 
eye could reach, but mountains and peaks covsied 
with snow. The wind soon fell to a calm, and I 
remained for two days in the constant expectation d 
being crushed by that frightful mass of ice which titt 
slightest wind could force upon us. We had passed 
the second day in such anxieties, when about mid- 
night the wind got up, and we immediately heazd 
horrible crackling of ice, which broke and tossed about 
with a noise resembling thunder. That was a tenibk 
night for us; but by the morning, the wind haviiig 
become by degrees less violent, we saw the baxm 
of ice wmch was before us entirely broken up, aad 
a large channel extending out of sight between its two 
sides. The sun now shone out, and we sailed away 
from the northward before a light breeze. Suddenly, 
when looking at the sides of the icy channel, we nw 
the masts of a ship ; but what was still more suipriflBg 
to us, was the singular manner in which its sails w«e 
placed, and the oismantled appearance of its wftn 
and manoeuvres. 

' It continued to sail on for some time, then sUip fO g 
by a block of ice, it remained motioiiJess. I ooald 
not then resist mv feeling of curiosity ; I got into HJ 
gig with some of my sadors, and went towards tlui 
strange vessel 

' We saw, as we drew near, that it was very im^ 
damaged by the ice. Not a man was to be seen oa 
the deck, which was covered with snow. We shouted, 
but no one replied. Before getting up the side, I 
looked through a port-hole which was open, and saws 
man seated before a table, upon which were all the 
necessary materials for writing. Arrived on the deck, 
we opened the hatchwav, and went down into tlie 
cabin ; there we found the ship's clerk seated as ire 
had before seen him through the port-hole. Ba* 
what were our terror and astonishment when we ssw^ 
that it was a corpse, and that a green damp moeld 
covered his cheeks and foreheads and hung over bis 
eyes, which were open ! 

' He had a pen m his hand, and the ship's log Uy 



j 






CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



83 



before him. The last lines he had written were as 

follow : 

<* nth N^oemher 1769. 

** It is BOW seventeen days since we were shut up in 
the ioe. The fire went out yesterday, and oar captain 
has since tried to light it a^rain, but without saccess. 
His wile died this morning. There is no more 
hope" 

* My sailon ke^t aloof in alarm from this dead body, 
iHiich aeemed still li\'ing. We entered together the 
■tate-room, and the first object wliich attracted us 
was the bodr of a woman laid on a bed, in an attitude 
of great and perplexed attention. One would have 
■aid, from the treumess of her features, that she was 
•till in Hie, had not the contraction of her limbs 
told us that she was dead. Before her a young 
man wis seated on the floor, holding a steel in 
one hand, and a flint in the other, and having 
befisre him several pieces of German tinder. We 
passed on to the fore-cabin, and found there several 
aailoin laid in their hammocks, and a dog stretched 
out at the foot of the ladder. It was in vain that 
we sought for provisions and firewood: we dis- 
covered nothing. Then my sailors began to say that 
it was an enchanted ship ; and they declared their 
intentions of remaining but a very short time longer 
€■ board. We then, after having taken the ship^s 
log, set out for our vessel, stricken with terror at the 
nought of the fatal instance we had just seen of the 
peril of polar navigation, in so high a degree of north 
uttitude. On my return, I found, by comparing the 
documents which I had in my possession, that the 
vessel had been missing for thirteen years.* 

Now, although these are extreme cases, and but 
seldom heard of, don't think that will excuse yoa» my 

K)d reader, if you see any even in this comparatively 
aperste country, for instance, cold or likely to be 
coldC and you ao not your best to warm them. 
^Diink, while you sit over the fire, or turn in the 
warm blankets, or button up your over-coat — ^think, 
whoa you have a warm grasp of a friend's hand, or 
fed your child's warm cheeK nestle against yours — 
think ol the heat-abstracting powers of door-steps, 
and common stairs, and east wmds, and parish-officers, 
■ad cold shoulders, and, if you will take my advice ; 
lit the cold of winter exhibit one of its characteristic 
nnren on you — let it drive the blood inwards to your 
ImiL Do what vou can to diffuse warmili and com- 
ioft among your less fortunate neighbours. 



THE VILLAGE WONDERS. 

Lnuc one greater than cither of us, 'we woke one 
BKaniiig, and foimd ourselves famous.' We had waked 
the previous morning very humdrum, ordinaiy speci- 
mens of the feminine gender, in Edinburah ; this 
mflming, we found ourselves at a Hiuhlamr village, 
and as I have above said, famous. Who are they ? 
Ihsfe was the question that absorbed the postmaster 
and the toll-keeper — it perplexed the minister and 
the hotel-keeper — it interested the visitors at the 
hotel, and the cotters by the loch-side —the very dogs 
and birds inquired in their mute language, ' Who are 
they ?' It's a piW we were not young men, for we 
ooud haye enjoyed ourselves much more even than we 
did. Knee we should not have needed to be so proper 
and qniet. That was what we were not ; but what 
we weie^ was the question. All that was known was, 
that two ordinary-l(K>king girls had suddenly appeared 
in the village at that dnuny faiiy-time, a Highland 
mnaefc — ^that they had no luj^gage but what they 
carried in their hands — that wey had immediately 
endeavoured to secure lodgings anywhere but at the 
hotel, but in the scarcity of ' rooms to let,' had finally 
floi accommodation at Mrs Stewart's small cottiige ; 
uereapon Mrs Stewart became as one of the lions 
—the mouthpiece of the wonders — the oracle of the 
village. Opinions of us varied, as the following 



conversations will shew. It was not Mrs Stewart's 
fatdt that she could not supply them with definite 
information ; for, amiable and kind-hearted though she 
was, she was not free from that invarijJble failing in 
country villages, especiallv Hij^iland ones — the love 
of gossip. We ^isily saw how the different results of 
her conversations swayed her opinions, and the 
[tleasurc we found in confusing her 1a*ansparent 
mind was quite piquante. The second morning 
after our amval, the postmaster and his wife found 
it necessary to visit Mrs Stewart. 

*Sae ye\*c gotten twa leddies bidin' wi' ye, Mrs 
Stewart. Wha arc they?' 

(Mrs Stewart's mind was not made up yet, and 
she took care not to express herself too strongly at 
first) 

*Ay, but I kenna wha they are. Thev havena 
tcllt me as yet ; but leave me alane for nndin' out 
funny things !' 

' Ye mav wed say that ! Hoo lang are they gann 
to bide wi ye?' 

* Anc o' them tellt mc the day that they liket the 

Elace sac weel, the^ wad stay a fortnight, if I wad 
oej) them ; and I said, ** Yes," so I 'm supposing they 11 
stay.' 

* Can ye no find oot their names ?' 

' Na ! 1 hear theirsels ca'ing Ally and Carry, and 
homctimes Oranu^r; but ony mair I canna tell — I've 
had nae opportunity o' wilm' it oot o' them ; and I 
dinna like to ask dounricht, ** What 's your name ? " * 

' Wlien their letters come, we shall see ; if they get 
ony?' 

' They 're writiu' away this momin' at ony rate.' 

'We^U see then. But what kind o' folk cl' ye think 
theylUbe?' 

' The faitiier o' ane o' them 's a hoose-penter, that 's 
certain, for the lassie 's brocht a bit brod to try her 
haun' upon ; and I 'm thinkiu' the ither ane maun be 
the dochtcr o' a miller or comdcaler ; for they've some 
bits o' prent stcekit tiiegither wi' yallow paper; it 
maun be on that trade, by the picturs ootaide; and 
it 's ca'd the Cornhill Maggaeen.* 

* What has Maggy to do wi' Com ? ' 
' I dinna ken.* 

'I'm thinkin' they'll be dressmaker or milliner 
budies theirsels,' suggested the postmistress. 

' Dressmakers ! l£ey are no that weel pitten on ! ' 
resjKjnds her si>ou8e. 

* Sure certam, they hae just the claes they staun 
in, and puir eneugh trash it is. But ye ken cobblers' 
shoon are aye doun at the heeL' 

* 1 'm thinking they 're no leddies, ony ^te — leddies 
wad hae mair to say aboot theirsels,' said the post- 
master. 

* Ay, then they 're aye talkin' andhaverin' aboot ladsi' 

* Whilk is a sure sign o' a milliner.' 

' There 's ane that I think they maun be baith wantin', 
for they 're kind o' fechtin' aboot him — ^they ca' him 
Garry Banldic. I think he maun be some great 
catch, for they speak maist and langest a])oot him — 
ye see they dinna ken that Hieland wa's are sae thin, 
and just speak out their mind — ^but they've a deal o' 
havering aboot some Brownie or Browning (ill-faured 
set a' thae brownies are), and aboot Curry Bell and 
Dickins. Ye see I mind the names, to see if they '11 
he of ony use to me afterwards.* 

* They maun be glaikit hizzics.' 

'Yet I dinna think they're that a'thegither; 
they 're sae quiet i' the house, and respectf u' to me, 
and very Uttle trouble — that's ae thing maks me 
think they're no leddies. And when they're no 
cbshmaclavering o' nichts, if I 'U gang in by accident, 
they're reading cither aboot the grain-trade, or oot 
o' a buik whaur ilka sentence gangs jump wi' the 
ither, for a' the warld like a see-saw. Pou try, they 
ca'd it — l)ut why pou'try, I dinna ken, if it 's no that 
the jabbers o' a bubbly-jock or a clockin'-hen hae 
mair sense in them.' 



84 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



'Mavbe becauBO lume but geese or itber fouls read 
them!^ 

A hearty laugh and my appearanoe dosed the 
important colloquy for the time. That afternoon the 
carrier, in the same mysterious manner in which we 
i^ypeared ourselves, brou^t two portnumteaus for us. 

'Here, Mrs Stewart, nere *s something solid for 
your leddies.' 

' Which leddies ? What's their names?' 

* I dinna ken — no more than yerseL I was tauld 
to leave them for the leddies at Mrs Stewart's.' 

*Wharfrae?' 

* Callander.' 
•Whagie'dyethem?' 

< The s^tion-master.' 

* What did he say?' 

< Naething but what I 've tellt ye.' 

This was a terminus, so she knocked at our door. 

* Here 's some luggage com'd ; but we dinna ken if 
it should be for you. What name should be on it ?' 

' Oh, it 's all right. We expected them. Ask tiie 
man to bring them in.' 

She did so with evident unwillingness, but we 
parted with tiie carrier on the best of terms. 

Passer-by loq. *Hoo are ye gettin' on wi' your 
lodgers?' 

*Kne.' 

' No fund oot their names yet ?' 

* No yet' 

' I wonder if they 've ony. I 'm thinkin' they 're no 
that canny— mayl)e fairies, or elfins, or witcmes. I 
wadna be you, Mrs Stewart, for something. They 
came in a flicht o' sunlight, and they'll gang in 
a puff o' smoke. Mair by token, when Nanse was 
down wi' her water-stoups to the loch, she saw them 
lookin' into the water likcra couple o' fules, and she 
went gev near them on pirpose ; and the fiur-haired 
one, Allv, said to the ither : '* Hasn't that a. fine 
effect, that glorious green on the water?" "Ay, 
Ally; but I love all water-scenes so much: mind 
vou, I'm half a mermaid 1" And yrhat she meant 
by that, but something unearthly, I wad like to 
know.' 

'Na,na! Bather owre substantial for ony imearthly 
bein', especially the Carry ane — she 's aboot as braid 
as she's lang— and there nane o' them that bonny 
either ; and mv ! what hearty meals they take— that 's 
no fairy-like ! 

'Faither says they're some gamblin' be^s^gars, but 
mither thinks tiiey maun be practised gipsies. They 
hinna seen them yet, but they're comin^by to get a 
peep o' them tiie mom.' 

' Come early, then, for I never ken what they '11 be 
after : they generally bang out i' the momin' without 
rhyme or reason, and sometimes come back to dinner. 
At ither times, I 'U find them landed in their room at 
the dusk, and they'll tell me they've been some 
score o' miles. I duma like to misdoot them ; but it 
looks funny, for they 're evident toun lassies, and that 
set are aye puling things. Now, how a toun lassie 
could waliL round the loch, and come in to tea as if 
naethinff had happened, I canna mak oot ; and they 
proved Shey'd be^m round.' 

'Nae toun body could do that. But thae lassies 
maun be either witches or practeesed trampin' gipsies. 
I'm hopin' tiiat whan they ganff awa', thsy'll 
leave you some sicht o' a note, and no just let ye 
whistle for 't.* 




* We '11 see. Good-day.' 

Mrs Stewart, popping in her head, and then 
herself: 'Are ye gaun oot the day for a stravaig, 
leddies?' 

' Not to-day. We will just be about the doors. We 
have had one or two tolerably long walks since we 
came here, haven't we ?' 



' Ay, that ye have ! Ye 've surely been aocua 
towaUdn'?' 

' Yes ; bat not so much as we have done here 

< Ye 've done wonders then. I 've gotten your 
brushed, but I wad like hers. What am I to ca' 

Hub was addressed to me, on behalf of my i 
I was fairly caught, unprepared, and answcnlc 
looked paimully at her. 

' Never mind a name for me, Mrs Stewart ; ; 
hear some time ; but we 11 be like the Queei 
not tell you till we so awav!' She pretend 
enjoy it veiy much, but, I have no doubt, i 
vengeance. 

That evening, Mrs Stewart commenced the i 
again. 'It's a cauld nicht; vdll ye no oome 
imd warm yersels, and hae a bit crack, leddies? 

We were cold, and much amused with her, 
went. Ally took off her thin house-boots, and p 
forward her feet to the fire. * I 'm so cold,' she 

' No wonder,' said Mrs Stewart ; ' they 's sud 
shoes ; they 11 no keep heat in them, I 'se wana 

' I never wear anything else.' 

'Where did you get them?' 

' London.' (Item for Mrs Stewart.) 

'Ye'U no be sisters?' 

'No ; we have no relation to each other.' {lU 

<I didna think ve were, for ye 're no likf 
another ; but the tcJl-wife thocht ye maim be.' 

* The toll- wife must be interested in us. — ^But 
any nice old witch-stories to tell ub. 



rou 



Stewart, or thin^ about the places here ?' 

' Hundreds. Have ye ever been in the Hi^ 
afore?' 

' Often ; but never at this place.' 

' And do ye like this counlry ?' 

' Very well ; and we 're so much amused wit) 
people, they all stare at us so, and seem so 
astonished. Do they think us wild beasts ?' 

' Everybody 's aslun' me wha ye are ?' 

' And what do you tell them ?' 

' Jist that I diima ken mysel,' said Mrs Stew 
little crest-fallen ; * and they say it 's gey queer t 
folk bidin' in the house, and no be able to tell 
names.' 

' So it is — I never thought of it,' exclaimed L 'H 
elevated into curiosities, lions, and everything ; 
we shan't let out our names at all, to keep up tL 
We should lose our romantic interest if tneyj 
out "the nameless lassie's name." ' 

' But surely you can tell them something t 
us?' said Ally. 

' Naething but that ye 're frae the south ; and 
o' pentin', and walkin', and readin' ! ' 

' That is idways something ! Are they not oo( 
with it?' 

• Not they.' 

' I wonder if they 'U find out much more,' said 

Mrs Stewart turned to me : * What kind o' tc 
has she — it 's no Scotch, nor Edinburgh, nor Em 
that I've heard?' 

Hereupon sundry particulars were entered 
which leit her as much in the dark aa ever. 

' If it's a fair question, what pairt do ye lif 
leddies?' 

We explained, with a similarly wide miM-gin. 

' Ye '11 have a gay time in the south. Do ye \ 
many balls?' 

'Not to balls. Neither are we very gay— i 
too busy.' 

' Busy — ^what business have ye ?' 

' We are both eldest daughters, and that 's a pc 
labour in itself.' 

' What ye 11 ca' labour — ^tooming the money o 
your purses upon counters, among silks, and vel 
and things.' 

' No, no, Mrs Stewart, not that exactly.' 

' What kind o' queer letters are they ye had t( 
frae hame ? Was yon your names ?' 



}». 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



85 



' No. To amuse the village, we bade them just put 
on our initialB.' 

She was called to the door by an inquisitive neish- 
boor, who, of necessity, was marched in to criticise 
VM, we bearing the inspection with the most unaffected 
aortlesBness. Such was only a specimen of Mrs 
Stewart's tactics ; for to go through them all, and our 
answers, would make a tSerably well-sized volume. 

* What ladies are these you have with you ?* said 
the minister. 

'Idinnaken.* 

* What are their names at least ? ' 
' I canna find oot, sir.* 

* Why don't you ask them ?' 

* They winna tell.' 

' That does not look well,' said the minister ; and he 
ever afterwards honoured us with a broad scrutinising 
stare, in right of his cloth. 

Another person, smitten by the general curiosity, 
was a dqft boy belonging to the village. Everywhere 
we went, far or near, we saw him some time or other 
during the day. No matter how early, or how 
privately we set out, he knew, and set out too. 
Sometimes he would walk past us, and then sit down 
for a lon^ time, and again overtake us. At first, we 
were a bttle alarmed and uncomfortable, but when 
we knew more about him, it only added to our 
amusement. He never spoke once to ns, and never 
pietended to notice ns. No doubt the little spy 
greatly edified his mother and eranny. 

* Isn't it queer for a toun-body to look doun into a 
lodi, when they're no accustomed t'it, and see the 
water wavin' away?' We were thus accosted by a 
most peculiar, snuut, dark -eyed, elderly woman. ' Do 
ye like the Hielands ?' 

' Veiy much ; there are such beautiful places to be 
teen.' 

'Yell hae seen near everything a'ready? Ye '11 
bae been walkin' aboot a deal ?' 

' Yes, a good deal' 

' ffiv ye seen the glen fa' ?' 

'Na Where is it?' 

' Wad ye like to go ? I 'm gaxm there the noo. It 's 
nud bonny.' 

We assented. 

* Ye 11 be the leddies that's stoppin' doon at Mrs 
ofesnart s? 

We acknowledged it 

* Div ^ like her ?' 

'She 18 very kind and obliging.' 
'She's a fine body.' 

'Is she your sister?' she whispered once to me, 
indioating Ally witii her thumb. 
' No ime is not my sister.' 
' Is die ony relation ?' 
' None in tiie world.' 
'What's her name?' 

* I 'm afraid you must ask her that yourself.' 
' What 's yours, then ?' 

' It's such a long one, you could not pronounce it, 
and it is not worth trying to.' 

When we had seen the really beautiful falls, and 
were on level ground again, she turned to Ally: 
'What's your name now, miss ?' 

' People always forcet names among these hills ; I 
don't believe you comd tell me your own now, if I 
were to ask you ! ' 

With many a long screed of confidential gossip, 
she tried to tempt us to break our resolution, but m 
vain. 

The innkeeper 'daundered' down also to Mrs 
Stewart's once. 'Have you never fund out your 
leddies* names?' 

' Ne'er hae L They winna tell me them, Jenny nor 




been sae lang wi' 
they get nae letters?' 
'Yes ; but they hae^ist some o' the A B C on them. 



and " Care o' the Postmaster." Such a daft-like thin^. 
It *s one o' the things I dinna like aboot them, as if 
they couldna spelL' 

'I 'm thinkin' they can do that richt weeL' 

'I ken that; for the postmaister shewed me twa 
letters they had addressed to Edinburgh to freends 
there, and a richt black dashin' hand they baith 
write; and they helpit me with my accoimts the 
ither nicht, and richt grand figures they are, for 
certain.' 

' I 'm thinking they 're baith bom ladies I ' 

*No— divye? Why?' 

* Because Lord and Lady and Miss Fitzbohn, they 
askit me the ither day what was their names, and I 
tell't them naebody could find oot. And they kind 
o' laughed, and Miss said : " I 've got a great feuicy to 
find out myself." And I said r " My lady, you'll find 
them any day you like by the loch-side, for they 've 
begun sketches there." And she and her mother did 
go, but I don't know what thev said, only they bow 
to them now, when they meet them, and I heard Miss 
say : " They are uncommon in everything." ' 

Again: 

* What kind o' lodgers are they ye have ? ' 

* That's mair nor I can telL' 

* Hoot^ nonsense ! What 'U be their names then ?' 

' I never was so beat in all mv life. I askit the ane, 
and she said : "We'll be like the Queen, and not tell 
our names till we go away ; and when I speered at 
the ither ane, she says : *' What's in a name, Mrs 
Stewart? Peppennint by any ither name would 
smell as sweet. ' But I never can be angry with 
them, however much I'm provoked at them. We 've 
gotten gey intimate noo ; and I like them raal weeL 
They've been twice butt at nichts wi' me warming 
theirsels at the fire, and they 're raal cheery bodies.' 

' Why did ye no speer at them then ?' 

' Ajr did I ; but a that I 've fund oot is, that they 
were in Edinburgh before they cam here, and that 
maist o' their freends are there. I've heard them 
speak o' this one's carriage and that one's corriafle, 
and this hotel and that hotel, and Sir This and Lady 
that, and Honourable Something Else; and they 
couldna hae kend thae folk unl^» they were gey 
stunnin' theirsels.' 

* I dinna believe in them. What made them come 
here?' 

* Jist to see the places, and learn to pent things f rae 
natur.' 

* Daft-like leddies.' 

' The Garry one says to me the ither day : " Now, 
Mrs Stewart, you must let me wash the tea-cups, and 
make the beds and sweep the floor, for it 's such fun ! " 
And I 'm no thinkin' that if she *d been obliged to do 
it, she wad hae thocht it fun.' 

' Na, na ; leddies wad hae brawer dresses !' 

* Ay, but they 're aye neat ; and their dresses are 
made sae funny, like what my mither used to wear ; 
and wi' belts round their waists, like wee laddies. 
But I suppose it maun be the fashion.' 

*Ouybody can get the fashion in Edinburgh. 
They '11 be shopkeepers ! ' 

* Ay, but onybody canna get beautiful goold 
watches. And I had to wash some o' their linen, and 
it was sae bonny, wi' dabbit holes worked a' round 
their things, and lace ayont it ; and I 've heard say 
that ye ken leddies by that mair than their out- 
dresses.' 

* If I were a leddy, I wad wear silks every day.' 

' And they've got initials on their letters, and is na 
that the thing omy grand folk hae ! And the leddies 
at the hotel bow to them whan they meet them ! ' 

* They 're no to ken nae better ! But cude-bye the 
day. I dinna tak them for cospel, mind. 

A Highland lassie had oec^ listening for some 
time to the conversation. * Sae ye havena fund oot 
their names yet?' 

* No ; and I 'm no gaun to try it nae mair, for I 'm 



GHAMBEBffS JOURNAL. 



o\ and I 'm tamin' to like them, and I winna 
botlier ti^em.' 

'Theyweredoun the loch-side this manung againl' 

*Ay, at their sketching; and beautifid slutches 
they make, the AHy ane wbL* 

'Some folk said they werena canny; but dogs 
and bairns dinna tak to nnoanny folk; and if ye saw 
oor Baffler— erery time he sees them far away, he 
flees like wnd, aiid*ll hardly leave them; and tiiey 
bring bits o' biscoits and bread to him. And Miss 
Bobson up there says her dog Boy is the same, and 
he 's a snappy thing. Do ye think they 're weel aff ?' 

' They maun be ; or how could ther hae come a' 
this distance for nae busineBB. Ana they're raal 
genteel wi' me. I'm sore I could cheat them, if I 
fiket, bat they dinna lose onything wi' being free. 
And, forby, they're sae thankfal to me for everything 
I do; it's a peneot pleesure. They canna be aooos- 
tomeA to lodmnos.* 

' I was nu3 ^ad that I cam in and saw them the 
ither nicht wmm they were batt wi* you— they're 
nice canty leddies, ony gate. And if they're sae wed 
aff as ye think they are, I wish oor Donald woold fa' 
across ane o' them, for he 's every bit a gentleman, 
bonin' the money, and that he canna win muckle o', 
for a' his hard wtA at the tailorin'. Poor man, he 's 
goid enoojg^ to be amarrow for onybodv! ' 

' Deed is he. He 's a perfect jewel of a man 1 ' 

Thus was oor past and future mapped out for us 
by the villagen — not that their eueeses came near the 
tnith. ITieir ignorance was iSiss; their ignorance 
was the mother of admiration. 

The ni^t before oor departore, we were very confi- 
dential and friendly wit£ Mrs Stewart before her 
fariffht blazing fire. We had been direotinf her how 
to tOTward oor luggage, and gave her labeb with the 
long-coveted names and addrMses. ' You see they are 
not much worth knowing, after alL Bat hasn't it 
been a good joke ? What a deal of fun and clatter 
it has given both the people and usi What do they 
think of us? Do they think we are cracked — or 
what?' 

*Ka Howshooldlknow? We don't, I say' 

*I miderstand. l^t ^pou know quite well that more 
than half of these Gaehc harangues were about us.' 

' Such nonsense. Fdk are sae conceited as to think 
wd 're speakin' o' them, when we talk in our mither- 
tonffue.^ 

* Maybe I know more of your mother-tongue than 
you are aware of — so take care.' 

*NoI Do ye?' 

< What do tiiey say about wiV 

'They think ye 're raal, fine, honest, sonsy lassies, 
o' the rieht cut, and no feared lor a Highland peat- 
moss.' 

'And I think they're quite correct; don't you? 
Will you keep up the mysteiy about us when we 're 
gome, for yoor jnnvate amusement ?' 

•Deed will I? 

*T own will be a great change to us, Mrs Stewart 
Will you miss us?' 

' Ay, won't I though I And won't ye mus me and 
my in|de-cheek, and my bit crack? ye'U no get the 
Hke in £idinburgh I' 

'No. We wont cet such fan l^B;ain for a long time, 
for they keep us in &im order at home.' 

* Pair things I' 

' But I 'm so sleepy, and we 're to be up so early — 
we must ga' 
I drew out uxy watch 

' What a fine watch ! Is it a motionless one ?' 
'Na Listen!' and die examined it amid our hearty 

lA TIghwig- 

*Gooa-night, Mrs Stewart. It's the last time 
we 11 say that to you.' 

'Dinna break my heart, lassies. I hope it'll pour 
rain like the mischief the mom ! ' 

'That's not a kind wish, Mrs Stewart, for we must 



leave in any weaOier. Good-bye, in case wa Iwi | 
before you are up in the morning.' 
< Do you think I wad let ye Imvb my hoDM 



linng tit any hour to mak Vcr btvakfaatst' 
And tnieenoQgh Mn Aeinoiwas i^ 



nsoally an eaily riser; sod when the inhaUlHliif 
the vfllaflD wen all astirxin^^ 'the nameleaa Jmhi' 
had vaniSied. in the same mysterioiis maanor aitiiv 
had come. 

I believe Mrs Stewart kept up Ihe talk a fiilj 
while even after we left, for her own amammt^L 
They need it all, poor thmgi ; for I knom tint mm \ 
when we were there, we h^ud them talk aboife fi 
visitors of the preceding sammer; and as to hmrhm 
we would last them in that line, I cannot prstadi 
guess. But as a secret when told is no aeoi^ ii{ 
won't tell it now, and let oar readers make tha mtk 
of it, as our Highland neighboors did. 

SCHAMYL IN CAPTIVITY. 

In the straggle of Brnrna to sabdue the GaoflM^ 
Schamyl Imam was the last of the powerfol fras flhib 
who held out. Prinoe Dadian, the Prince of AlMj^ 
and one or two others, may indeed piussiPB tUr 
shadowy rank, but thffv are in reality only wf/LmM 
vassals of the csar. The embers of war may atflti 
here and there smooldering sulkily, as amflmli 
Shapsooghs ; but the flame which omy a few nail 
ago burned so fiercely is extingniahed ; and liM 
Schamyl at last laid down his arms, the Ifmg, hfj^ 
less struggle of the wariike tribes who acknowfa^ 
him as their chief was felt to be ended. 

There is no doubt that a great deal of the pMMl 
importance which attached to Schamyl was ii !• 
first instance attributaUe to the ignofaaoe dfii 
enemies. A man perhajM of very little pnsiM 
account among his tribe is often at onoe iMii ti 
supreme power when mesaenflers from a lis hPK 
general are sent to treat withnimu But the pat^ 
soldier whose wars have just closed ao gdh^ 
was no drivellinff marabout or fooatio dtfW 
Thoufldi it is difl&ult to see clearly ibnmifk Ai 
thick naze which shrouds political events aasptAl 
wild mountains and defiles of the Caucaan% w flM* 
enoo^ to excite our interest, and even ear imptdi/t 
him. Bv paths unknown to European aahflMtr 
by dauntless courage, an aostere simpiiQi^, iva m^ 
denial, great firmness of purpose, and proo^ptHnliil^ 
action ; by some intriffoes, and some cnmaHit ^ 
raised himself from the humble rank ef 
the Imam Kaay Moullah, to a position of 
authority among his eountr^en; and he 
believed to possess that samtly chancter 
usually ascribed by the populace to l^e 
supreme power in the East. 

A touching and romantic incident made m U 
acQuainted with his personal appearance and MB** 
of life when at home among his mountains, il ii * 
story of as chivalrous an Mt as that said lo ftf** 
passed between Bichard Hie lion-hearted and BtUt 
eddin in the time of the third Crusade : a tili ^ 

ceneroos enmity on one side, and noUe 

the other. Many years ago, the Imam'a eUM 
Djemmal Eddin, was taken prisoner by the Ban 
His mother, Patimate, died of grief for his Umj W 
the boy was carefully educated by the late W^ 
and loaded with fovours. He grew up witii aB ^ 
ideas of a Russian noble and a oourtier. Bat f^ 
last his father obtained his exchange for the Bia- 
cesses Orbeliani and Tchawchawadz^ whoae tamtfi'^ 
imprisonment at Veden made so mwAk noaae. fli 
young man returned to his native mnnntsJBj Ut 
soon sickened there. He fell into a state ol l9P^ 
chondria, which pnazled all the mediome-BMB w 
charm-chanters; so at last Schamyl sent a mtm/^ 

Ser to ask aid of the Bussians. Oolond the friD0> 
lyrsky was fortunate enough to reoeiva this haii^ 



d 



reqaett, and to hia undying honour, immediately 
deyatched Dr Petrofisky, the best srugeon of hiB 
ngonent, to the young man's aid ; but in vain. 

According to the most trustworthy inforxnation 
obtainable, Schamvl is now probably about sixty 
yiMS of age, thou^ he himself not knowing exactly, 
ifaia is mflre coniecture. He does not look more than 
foi!^. He is tall in stature. His countenance is soft, 
calmi, imposing. Its principal characteristic is melan- 
choly ; but when the muscles of the face contract, it 
espresses great energy. His complexion is pale, his 
ey ebro ws strondly marked ; his eyes are of a dark 
9my, and usuaUy half shut, like those of a lion 
iTpoaJng. His beard is dyed a reddish brown by 
hama» and very carefully kept ; his mouth is cood ; 
lips, red ; teeth, small, even, white, and poiutea; his 
hands small, white, and scrupulously attended to. His 
walk is slow and srave. He looks like a hero. 

When at Veo^, his ordinary costume was a 
Leiguian tunic, white or green ; a nigh-pointed cap of 
aheep>skin, white as snow, round which was wound a 
torban of white muslin, the ends falling behind. The 
point of the cxp was in red cloth, with a black 
fasifll. Embroidered ^ters, and boots of yellow or 
lad leather, covered his legs and feet On Fridays, 
when he went to the mosque, he wore a long white or 
green robe over his ordinary dress ; and in winter, a 
crimson pelisse, lined with black lamb-skin, protected 
him from the cold. In war-timei, hia arms were a 
sword, a dagger, a pair of |>iBtols, and a ^un. Two 
attendants uao rode oeside him, each oanvmg another 
pair of pistols and a gun for the Imam s use. This 
post was looked upon as one of high honour among 
the mountaineers ; and if one of these attendants was 
kiUed, another immediately replaced him. Schamyl 
waa said to be the best horseman among a race of 
honemen, and his horses were the strongest and fleetest 
which could be procured. 

Ihc qualities of the Imam's mind belong to the 
fflfy highest kind of Asiatic excellence, ae prided 
hiwBfilf upon his truthfulness. He was sparing of 
wcvda, patient, samdons, clear-sighted, politic, charit- 
ahle; oiM in his Maring, but tender-hearted, when 
his i^ections were roused. He used no titles, but 
gmo and took the ' Thee and Thou * with the simidest 
jaassnt He was abstemious, and always ate atone. 
SBm food was flour, milk, fruit, rice, honey, tea ; he 
nvdy touched meat. He tried to suppress every 
kiad of luxury ; and his influence, where that of the 
^Mitest potentates of the earth have been proved 
pofwlesf, was still supreme. Smoking was long as 
MBoh a necessity to the Circassian as to the Tm'k ; 
iMit Schamyl forbade it, and ordered that the money 
Ulierto apent in tobacoo should be used to purchase 
gu^wdcor. He was obeyed. His morals were pure, 
aad he would not tolerate any weakness in othera A 
Tbitar woman, a widow, and childless, lived with a 
Ta^flnisn who had promised her marriage. She 
became preonant. ochannrl had her interrogated, 
cad the truSi being made clear, he cut off the heads 
belli of the woman and her paramour. The axe which 
did eiecation on this oocssion is kept as a curiosity, 
and is in possession of Field-marshal the Prince 
Bariatusky, viceroy of the Caucasus. 

Schamyl had four wives: but of these Patimate 
diad lA 1839, and another he repudiated, because she 
him no children. He silowed his wives no 
of rank or distinction. He was a master rather 
a husband. 

Ftam 1834 to 1859— for twenty-five years— this 
aMMmtain-chief waged war with the most distinguished 
imptajns of Kussia, and made the countiy over which 
he mled one of the sternest military schools in the 
wcrid. His enmity was one which no defeats, losses, 
qr privations could diminish, which no offers, how- 
amer splendid, could hill to sleep. Till at last, chased 
firam cue fastnses, hitherto deemed impregnable, to 
fondly thought more inaiccessible still, he 



looked his farewell at hope from the heights of 
Ghounib, and surrendered, ro save the lives ofa mero 
handful of devoted followers, whom misfortune and 
disaster had left stall true to him. Happily, even 
war&ffe has long ceased to be wantonly cruel or 
vindictive. The captive Imam has been allotted an 
ample pension and a residence in the town of Ealousa. 

Kalouga pleased Schamyl, on account of uie 
woods, hUls, and ravines, which remind hhn of the 
Caucasus. The house hired for him has three stories. 
He has kept the upper story for himself, siven the 
middle story to one of his sons, and the lower to 
another. Of the six rooms on the upper story, four 
aro occupied by his daughters, who five with Viiwi — 
that is, two rooms aro occupied by each younff lady. 
These six rooms aro very simply finmished with lam 
sofas or divans, and aro not ornamented with a singM 
picturo, or even a looking-glass. The Imam's private 
room serves as study, oratory, and bedroom. A large 
divan, an arm-chair, a writing-desk, a card-table, a 
book -stand, a basin, and a cushion to kneel on at 
prayer-time, complete ita furniture. The middle 
story, destined for Basy Mahomet and Ids wife Keri- 
mate, who is said to be very beautiful, is adorned 
with classes, draperies, carpeta, and bronzes ; ita mis- 
tress has not yet arrived, but Schamyl has reclaimed 
Prince Bariatinsky's interoession to obtain permis- 
eion for her to jom her husband. On his arrival at 
Kalouga, Schamyl visited some of the authorities, 
conversed much with the arohbishop, interested him- 
self in the daily details of the life of Russian soldiers^ 
and visited with much attention the barracks of the 
regiment in garrison. The contact of this son of 
naturo, endowed with a vast and lucid mind, kept in 
check only by native superstition, with our artificial 
life, is very mterestiug, as aro idso his patriarohal 
manners, and his curious sympathies and antipathies. 
Strange to all things, knowing nothing of the circum- 
stances which surround him, lie shews much tact in 
his actions ; and the words he addressed to M. Rou- 
novsky (to whom we aro indebted for some of these 
particulars), when that officer was entering on his func- 
tions, are curiously illustrative of the tone of his mind. 
*When,' said the Imam, 'it jpleases God to make 
a child an orphan, to replace ita mother is given to 
it a nurse, who ought to feed, dress, wash, and keep 
it from harm. If the child remains in good health, 
^y, dean, and happy, every one praises the nurse: 
it is said the nurse does ner duty, and loves the 
child. But if the orphan is aiUng, dirty, slovenly, it 
is not the child we blame, but the nurse who has 
neglected it, left it untaugjht, and who does not love 
it I am an old man ; but I am a stranger hero. I 
understand neither your language nor your customs ; 
and so I fancy that I am no longer the old man 
Schamyl, but a little child, become, throu^ God's 
wiU, an orphan, having need of a nurse. Yon aro 
this nurse, and I pray you to love me as a nurse 
loves her child. For my part, I will love you not only 
as a child loves his nurse, but as old Schamyl can 
love a man who does good to him.* 

He frankly shews his sympathies and antipathies. 
He is very fond of music, and when asked out, first 
inquires woether any one will play the piano at the 
house to which he is invited. M. Kounovsky bought 
him an organ, which defighted him exceedingly. But 
a conjuror is the person who seems to interest him 
moro than can be conceived. An individual of this 
class having apparently chanced a piece of money, 
enveloped m a pocket-handkerchief, into a plume 
of feathers, the Imam was so improssed that he 
declared the mero remembrance of the trick had 
trouMed his thoimhta even at prayers. ' Nevertheless,' 
he added, ' had we man been broudit before me at 
Veden, I would have had him hanged.* 

A crab, M'hich the Imam saw for the first 
time in his life at Kalouga, excited his utmost 
aversion. Taking it in one hand, he examined 



88 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



it attentively, till the crab seized a finger in its 
claws. He then threw it down, but continued to 
watch it eafi^erly. Having remarked the animal's 
mode of waudng, he became indignant, kicked it 
from before him, and ordered Khadjio, one of his 
suite, to drive it out of the room. It was long before 
he recovered from the disagreeable sensation produced 
on his mind by the crao. *I never saw such a 
cowardly animal,' he said ; ' and if I ever fancied the 
devil, it was in that likeness.' 

At first, he went a great deal into society, and 
liked balls, though he disapproved of the dress-coats 
worn by European eentlemen, and also of the bare 
shoulders exposed by ladies ; the latter being a 
tcmT)tation wnich mortal man, sayB the Imam, is too 
weaK to look upon. He liked the theatre too, and 
especially the dancing ; but the imcovercd faces of so 
many women troubl^ him, and he soon ceased his 
attendance. Now, when invited anywhere, he asks 
if ladies will be present. If the reply is affirmative, 
he refuses. His religion, he says, teaches him to object 
to imveiled women. But he is not bigoted on the 
subject, and is quite willing to discuss it. 

The captive Imam still excites some curiosity, but 
it is rapidly dying away; and he will soon be as 
little talked of or thought about as Timour Meerza, 
or Abd-el-Kader. 

THE FAST CANAL. BOAT. 

The other day, I was one of a party of more or less 
scientific persons who made a tnp from the City Basin 
to Paddington Stop, on the London Grand Jimction 
Canal. Our object was to note the success of an 
experiment which has already gladdened the hearts 
of canal proprietors, and which promises a large boon 
to that portion of the public in tne habit of intrusting 
goods to the hands of carriers. 

When it is said that the experiment in question 
was neither more nor less than the application of steam- 
power to the boats and barses employed in carrying 
various kinds of merchandise on canals, it may 
probably occur to many readers that such an im- 
provement on the old mode of propulsion is ver^ 
obvious, very simple, and very easy. Were this 
the sase, steam would long ago have superseded 
horse-power on canals; but when the subject is 
practically considered^ many difficulties arise, the 
chief of which is the swell of the water caused by 
the action of paddles, and even W that of an ordinary 
screw. The narrow channels of these watery high- 
ways are confined bv artificial banks, which would 
be seriously damaged by any considerable displace- 
ment of water, and in some parts quite washed away. 

Before describing what 1 ventture to call an inte- 
resting journey, I wiU beg my reader's kind indul- 
gence for a few statistical f<£te relating to canal traffic, 
and also to canals regarded as property. There are 
in the United Kingdom nearly five thousand miles 
of canals, representing a capital of certainly not 
less than L.40,000,000, and perhaps a good deal 
more. Before railways were invented, cantQ proper^ 
flourished exceedingly, and a nominal hundrea pouncis 
in canal scrip may have meant three hundred or four 
hundred, or even five hundred poimds in actual 
money. Those were brave days, at least for canal 
proprietors ; but their light has faded to such a mere 
glimmer, that a share in the Grand Junction Canal 
Company, nominally worth a hundred pounds, cannot 
be viewed by brokers and capitalists as anything 
more than seventy pounds, if so much. It need scarcely 
be said that the railway system, which has driven the 
time-honoured stage-coach and post-chaise off the 
road, has likewise proved the Nemesis of canal stock. 
And yet, strange to tell, the enormous depreciation 
in the value of shares is by no means justified by a 
falling off in the way of business. Canals are more 
in use now than they ever were. According to the last 



returns, 25,000 tons more merchandise are conyeyed 
by canal in the course of a single year than in aiij 
year previous to the commencement of railway oper^ 
tions in Great Britain. Excepting where a npd 
transit is desirable at all hazards, the safe caixii^ 
by canal-boat is even preferable to the gooda-inta, 
which has rather a bad character for getting in ik$ 
way of other trains, particularly express ones; nd 
the trifling advantage of five per cent., Tvhioh is aff 
that the canal companies offer below the railwaj 
scale of goods-carriage, is even worth oonsidenw 
by persons who have any very large dealinn wia 
earners. Of late years, canal sto«k may be add 
to have suffered from panic and prejadice man 
than anything. It would indeed be five thoosaai 
pities, should those five thousand miles of waiar 
way prove at last the road to ruin. A townaaaaB 
has little idea of the beauty which the artificial 
rivers of a flat country add to the face of nature. 
He thinks of a canal as he sees it — a stnd^t, fonnal 
cutting, filled with water of a sooty tince, and a 
greasy lustre; nor does the vision of &at aama 
stream winding clear through flowery meads and 
pleasant woodlands, ever occur to him. Yet then 
be places which our canal-boatman wots of, when 
the trees meet overhead; and parks come akpb^ 
down to the water. On this account, the psr> 
manent way of a canal has one great adyanbiga 
over that of a railway ; its presence, fertilising at 
well as ornamental, is in tne majori^ of caaet 
rather courted than repelled, and exorbitant cbaam 
of compensation have been rare in canal history. 

Unm the year 1848, canal companies were jtO" 
hibited by law from being carriers; but id iht 
parliamentary session of ^t year, an aot war 
passed removing the disqualiflcation. The eflbct hm 
oeen, of course, to increase very materially tha 
revenue of these bodies, which formerly depended 
solely on tolls. The Grand Junction Canal Compafly 
has now about two hundred and fifty boats of iiv 
own. Another leoslative act, of no further dair 
than last year, forbids the amalgamation of laihray 
and canal property, and insures to the pahiic tkr 
benefit of a fair competition. 

These matters have furnished part of our talk on tkr 
wharf of the Grand Junction Canal Comnany, dt 
which is lying the steam fly-boat Pkmeer. Oar Kiila 
party seems a large one when we have all emhaxlDed, 
and are forced to eH^w one another for standinff-rooak 
A fly-boat, my readers will bear in mind, is ton hmg 
narrow bai^ not more than seven feet wide as^ 
where, and approximating to seventy-five in leBM, 
which contrasts favourably in shape and general hte* 
liness of appearance with the black, flat, broad, tad 
immensely ugly coal-barge, also employed in enal 
navigation. A fly-boat carries her cargo *i™nf^ ar 
high above her hold as deep in it. Toe goods aie 
piled in a heap that narrows to a fourteen-inch plaak 
at the top ; and the whole is covered with ttirpaaHi 
Along the top ridge walks the baxveman, this foot- 
way Doing his only means of bodify commmucsslMB ' 
between uie stem of the boat and his calnn in thr 
steerage. A queer little hole is that same cabin, thr 
effect of entering which is to make yon feel likr 
Gulliver in the ^^linbus Flestrin stage of his adven- 
tures. It is a Lilliputian interior, not after iiv 
model of any one room in a house, but like the 
cobbler^s establishment celebrated in song — a con- 
densed hotch-()otch of parlour, and kitehen, and aH 
By simply turning round once upon your heel, yon mi^ 
scorch your clothes against the stove, sweep down 
everything on the opposite side of the cabin, knodc 
yourself a^nst the door at one end, and finish bf 
tumbling mto bed at the other. The decoration oi 
the cabin is cheerful, and, in the brightness of its red 
and yellow panelling, pleasantly^ recalls the Dutdi 
toys of infancy, and the mysterious domesticity of a 
travelling show. It may be superfluous to add, thai 



OHAMBBRS*S JOURNAL. 



89 



the apartment is decidedly stnfi^, the Atmosphere 
being that of a tailor's workshop over an oven. 
Some canal-boats are family-boats — a man, his wife, 
and four or five children oocnpying the toy-house 
which I have attempted to describe ; but the com- 
panies do not own any such boats as these, which all 
belong to private proprietors. 

Chir steam fly-boat, the jPtoneer, presented some 
features of mo<ufication which may be briefly noted. 
Her boiler and engine occupied vie usual space of 
the Dutch cabin, which was removed forward, thus 
diminishing the room for stowage. The Pioneer is a 
new boat, expressly built for iSe purpose of steam- 
traffic ; but neither boat nor machinery appeared to 
me so trim and ship-shape as their newneas would 
have augured. It seems, however, that great improve- 
ments are to be made, now that the success of the 
main experiment has been placed beyond question. 
For instance, the ordinary tiller, which takes up a 
^reat deal too much room to work in, will give way 
m favour of a wheel ; the machinery will thus get 
more space, and the cabin will be built over it. Of 
course, the wheel by which the boat is to be steered 
will be placed before instead of abaft the cabin and 
engine, just as it is placed on the deck of large 
veraels, before the poop. All these things are to 
come. 

We will take the Pioneer as we find her, which 
is thus — ^the helmsman has a space in the stem 
just laige enough to work his tiller in ; then there is 
ft small raised scrap of deck, with a lidlit iron railing 
at each side, and tine cone-shaped boiler cropping up 
IB the middle ; then comes the cabin ; and in advance 
of that is the piled-up cargo in its tarpaulin case; 
far I should state that this trip of the Pioneer is a 
real business trip, with no nonsense about it, but, 
on the contrary, a large amount of timber and heavy 
nooeiy ^^oods, which are very serious affiurs. The 
Pkmeer is going all the way to Wolverhampton, 
'tiiondi we amateurs are bound no further thsji to 
the &nige House at Paddington Stop. 

It is as oM a day, and as mucn like winter at 
last, as the most determined stickler for old-fashioned 
seasonable weather could wish at the close of the 
Knglish year. It is freezing sharp, and, after having 
been delightfully bright and bracing till noon, is now 
making up its mind to snow. It (foes snow a little, 
just as the PioMer starts, at half-past one o'clock, 
from the Company's wharf. The assembled porten, 
boatmen, and other servants of the Company, stan^ng 
on the quay, ^ve lusty cheers for the Pioneer, 

Off we 00, very steiEidily, but at a speed which is 
nnid to ^at of the ordinaiy locomotion on canals ; 
i na e ed, we are travelling just twice as quickly as we 
duNiId travel by horse^ulage. Our way lies for 
■cms distance where no horse can tow barge or boat, 
bat iHwre boats and barges are usually propelled by 
kamaa power. We are going imderground, throu£^ 
a brick tunnel no larger than a sewer. The Pioneer 
ham anoQier fly-boat in tow, laden with a similar cargo, 
solid some extraordinaiy precautions are requisite on 
tins BOYel occasion. We Keep one side of tlie water- 
way, and the second boat keeps the other ; so that, 
IB. case of the Pioneer having to slacken speed, and 
Kiimber Two getting too much way on her, she shall 
sot ran into our stem. Boats are taken through this 
tennel so slowly 1^ the old fashion, that they meet with- 
out aBy danger, though each keeps midway till hailed 
h^ iBbe vessd coming in an opposite direction. The 
Bm|i]e but arduous process of * legging' has hitherto 
beeB in practioe. A board is placed out from either 
side of the fly-boat, and on this board lies a man, with 
bis feet acainst the slimy wall of the tunneL In this 
pontion, ne walks horizontally, and so, by great exer- 
tion, moves the boat. Two men are employed in the 
operation, and it seems wonderful that they should 
mid time, on hearing the signal of an approachinjg 
bo«t^ to rise firom theur recumbent attitude, ship their 



planks, and get the boat to one side of the tunnel, so 
as to pass in safety. The Pioneer will have done good 
service, if only in having led the way to an ab^tion 
of this dreadml duty of 'legging,' which so exhausts 
the men that, on their qmtting a long tunnel neatr 
Birmingham, they are as wet from perspiration as if 
they had juErt been dragged out of the cuiaL 

Our Cockney tunneVnowever, is not so tediously 
protracted an affair, though long enough, I should 
think, to suit the majority of tasites for odd ways of 
travelling. For a little while after we have entered 
it, the water has a dark, clear look, and the sharp 
edges of its ripples catch the distant light with a 
rawer solemn effect. The yellow atmosphere, seen 
through the round arch of our narrow tunnel, takes 
the shape and appearance of a moon half set in gloomy 
waves. Its large semicircle is obscured presently by 
the smoke from our funnel, the Pioneer bemg so incon- 
siderate as to bum coal that emits the densest clouds 
of carbon. Much to the discomfort of our helmsman, 
we are now compelled to crowd Mb little cockpit of a 
lower-deck, for the upper space is not sufBdent for us 
all to stand upright in. Even with the care taken to 
prevent mishaps, a few of us have been brought in 
rough contact with the slimy brick- work. iOl the 
time of our underground passage, we are being half- 
stifled with the undigested fuel already mentioned. 
We get into daylight again, in ten minutes or so 
from the moment of entering this length of Stynan 
perspective; and, having got into da^ight, we find 
that we have also got into Agar Town. A sort of 
very * vulgar Venice, indeed, is Agar Town. 

Our gondola seems quite a state-barge, worthy to 
carry Cleopatra, or the Lord Mayor, as we glide 
silently through this dismal spot, in which crime, and 
want, and ignorance herd in desperate citizenship 
together. The A.ata townsmen are mostly abroao, 
plying a questionable livelihood ; but the Agar towns- 
women shew their faces at squalid windows, and over 
tumble-down walls and rotten palings, and grin at us 
as ^we go past The stone-yard of a worjehouae is 
bounded on one of its sidcus by our water-way, and 
the puish Sisyphus pauses in lus weary task to gaze, 
but not to grin. Men sunk deep in wretchedness are 
for the most part stupified, and their faces wear a 
blank rather tnan a pamfid aspect. But it is other- 
wise with the abased and outcast daughters of the 
great family. In the progress of our fast canal-boat, 
we light upon this moral difference of the sexes. 
After the stone-yard comes a cinder-heap, a black 
mound, with several smaller black mounds, which are 
the siftings of the great one. It is a black wharf on 
which this heap stands, and a wild troop of black- 
faced women, in rags like sooty cobwebs, are working 
on it ¥dth great black sieves. The sight is painful 
enough, its utter poverty appearing as a fall ot many 
degrees from the low estate of the stone-yard; but 
the dust- women are not, as the stone-breakers were, 
moodily silent. These poor creatures, who look as if 
they had neglected to go out of mourning for the hope 
that died bSore they knew it, shriek and gibber at us 
voyagers, and point with weird motion and shrill 
laughter at the strange craft steaming by. 

The locks that we pass through are five. Both the 
Pioneer and her satellite go sioe by side when these 
impediments occur. In the time of stoppage, we have 
leisure to observe the people on the quays, and we do 
observe that they are not at all the same kind of 
people whom we see in our streets. Their dress, their 
manner, their language are foreign to the Londoner. 
They are Warwickers, mainly, these boatmen and 
lock-keepers of the Grand Junction CanaL Though 
some of them are metropolitan fixtures, and all are as 
much in Middlesex as m the north-western counties 
of England, there is not one who wears a London- 
made suit of clothes, or a London hat, or a London 
behaviour. For them, the obsolete act of parliament, 
forbidding any buttons but metal ones, appears to be 



90 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



still in force. For them are flat aeal-akiii caps o£ 
0reat ciicuxnfereDce especially mamifactured ; for 
thfiDDL Shakspearian phrases, which puzzle the aimota- 
ton^ bat which Warwickshire has popularly retained, 
do still exist. I heard two of these men, an old 
and a yonn^ one, talking together, like the grave- 
diggera mMeunUl, or like olaGobbo and Laonoelot, 
or like any pair of Shakspeare*s clowns you may 
mention. Will this loose-dad, brass-buttoned, fur- 
capped population of the canal and its banks continue 
to regard our fast canal-boat with the placidity which 
at present characterises their view? Or will the 
temble fact dawn upon their understandings, that 
this same ' intr'doocahun o* stea-am on canaiUB ' may 
tend to the getting rid of a conaid^ble amount of 
loose-clad, fiir-capjped, brass-buttoned human labour ? 
Politick economy teaches us, and truly teaches us, 
that everv saying of toU, or rather every step by 
which toil is dir^sted iuto more profitable channels, 
is a uniTersal gain in the long-run ; bat the ran is, 
imforfconaiely, a little too long for those who have 
cakmlated only on that common distance from hand 
to mouth ; and while improrement's crop of grass is 
flTOwin^ certain steeds are but too liable to starve. 
There is hope, however, that the increase of the Com- 
pany's busmess, consequent on the fresh advantages 
thev are now preparea to offer to the public, will 
enable them to retain all their servants, distributing 
Hbem. over a greater number of boats. As for those 
real ' steeds,' nitherto employed to tow the vessehi on 
the Grand Junction Canal, there is no fear of their 
starving — horse-flesh never does. 

It is freezing hard, and snowing gentiy, as we steam 
onward past the locks of Can^en Ix>wn, Kentish 
Town, and the Han^Nrtiead Eoad. Our pale faces, 
streaked with black, our red noses and blue lips, make 
op a wobegone picture. The banks of the canal are 
now getting more and more desolate ; it is a dreary 
ioame;^ along the Befi»nt's Park, and the ^;ardens of the 
Zoological Society. Our fast canal-boat is the slowest 
of alow steamers, considered as the chosen vessel of a 
pleasure-trip. Tbat tbe timber and the heary aocery 
goods are tovelling at twice the speed whidi they 
would attain in a barge hauled along by a horse and 
a rope, is true enough; but that uie more or less 
soientifio gentlemen in tiie steerage find this doubled 
sate of transit somewhat under the reasonable require- 
ments of deck-passengers, compelled to stand in one 
nanow i^iot, on an mtensely cold day, I think is 
equally a matter of fact. Philosophy itsedf could not, 
onder the circumstanoes, feel proper gratitude towards 
Mr Burch, of Macclesfield, who invented the screw 
for propelling the boat that carried the ^^oods that 
lay on the wharf that the Grand Junction Canal 
Company bmlt hj the City Basin. 

It IS a dreaiy joamey, stUl, along St John's Wood, 
with the sloping gardens of North and South Bank 
on either hand. The backs of the houses in NorUi 
and South Bank have a raw look, and the gardens 
are not very cheerful, at anyrate, on this D^ember 
day. On we go, with paler dieeks, and redder noses, 
and bluer lips, till we have ezchansed St John's 
Wood for Paadingt<m, and have struck a few sparks 
of life out of that lees forlom-lookiuff r^on. Here 
the canal is made ornamental, with iuan<u and plea- 
sure-boats, and terrace-Uke banks. A very pretty 
entrance to this vicinage is formed by a short tunn^, 
the outer arch being covered with ivy. 

Arrived at the Gauge House, we transfer our 
numbed feet from ^e deck of tiie Pioneer to the 
little wharf, where we have the pleasure of seeing 
tibe cargo weighed by a very simple process. The 
weiffht of the ooat beinfi j^viousiy ascertained, all 
that the flauger has to do is to find, by a long mea- 
■oring-ro^ the depth from her water-line to her ked ; 
and a calculation by figures will then enable him to 
tell the exact weight of the cargo to a fraction. 

Three cabs convey the party S more or less scientific 



gentlemen to St James's Hall, at the entzmnoe to 
which place of various entertainment we all alighi^ 
and are taken b^ the idle crowd for an exceeding^ 
dirty vestry. Dinner has been ordered, a day or two 
before, amd we are happily in tune not only for tfai^ 
bat for soap and water. 



THE FAMILY SCAPBQBACB. 
eHArraa zi.--thb rsaxu or lAWDBorrafa. 

The modesty of talent— provided that it be 
panied Mrith a stock of patience — ^is always suit 
of its reward. If Master Bichard Arbour had «nr 
chanced to plume himself among the iox&ffk ensto* 
mers of Mr Tipaaway upon his knowledge of the 
French tongue, it is not unlikely that the momeiit 
which fouid him in the grasp of the Baasian coont 
would have been his last. Bage and fear contended 
in the man's evil eyes, and blanched his cheek» white 
his wicked fingers tij^tened about the poor lad^ 
throat, as thoi:^ their trade was murder. Dick's 
coimt^ianoe was rapidly growing black, when ha 
bethougjht himself oi tnrowing an expressive i^btaoe 
at the table, and of making as though he would reach 
with one of his hands the pencil that still lay there. 
He felt convinced that his life depended on the 
count's imagining that his secret was yet ud£s- 
covered — ^thxre he was a deaf and dumb man still in 




for discovering: that you are an impostor;* he judi- 
ciously confim^ himself to making si^ns. 

The count relaxed his gripe to consider a little, and 
then released the lad altogether, though takixig cars 
to stand between him and the door. Dick took 19 
the pencil and wrote: *I am very sorry to have 
disturbed you, sir ; I thought ^u nad all left tha 
room, and was oominff in to put it straight.' 

' Tou lie ! ' returned the county in the most ^^fmtt 
and microscopic handwriting that ever was seen. 

* I also came to see if there was any brandj left,' 
wrote Dick. 

This did not happen to be in the least the caasb bol 
it was more in accordance with the Busaian'a notton 
of what was probable, than the simple broth of the 
other answer. 

'What did you see?' inquired G^otsuchako^ aniliin^ 
do^wn the words with his practised finders, while he 
kept his lynx eyes fixed upon the tremflmg yoollL 

* I saw you, count.' 

* What eUe, boy; what else ?' 

' Please, count, I saw that you had drunk all ths 
brandy.' 

Gotsuchakoff was evidently at a nonplus. He did 
not know whether to believe the boy or not. His 
hesitated as to whether he should push him farther, 
afraid, in case of lus being unaware that he had really 
spoken, of impressing him too much with the import- 
ance of what had happened. 

* And did you not near anythin^g ?' wrote the oounL 
imable to bear the horrid uncertainty which consumed 
him. 

This was the most perilous moment of all to Dick, 
and luckily the lad was by this time fully aware of iL 
HLb features expressed toe most extreme bewilder- 
ment, and even a touch of drollery. ' Hear^ oount ?* 
wrote he, in rather a shaky hand, it must be con* 
fessed; *how should I hear anything, with nobody 
butyou in the room ?' 

The Russian was looking him throus^ and throo^^ 
with a terrible distrust, but the sndle which the ladhad 
conjured up seemed completely to disarm him. He 
drew a lon£ breath of intense relief, and wiped away 
the drops that stood imon his pale forehead. He haa 
but uttered a single French word, after all, reasoned 
he, which, even if distinctly heard* might very well 



OHAMBBBS'S JOURU AL. 



91 



hsn aoniided to tiw lad's Ei^^ak em Uke tiM man 
gHtkosl <«plmTnatioa, «l a duib maa exoited to 
Bfitm At afl erente, if ninrder were not ta be 
done, it was bettv to believ« thia, and to e£Eaoe t^ 
recollection of tiie wbide Matter from the boy's mind 
as toon as possible. 

' I beg your pardon, joirag sir,' wrote he ; ' I am 
afraid mA I have ben taking a little more drink thni 
ia good for me. Let as ahake hands, and forget this 
stqpid business.' 

The RniwiaTi, to irhom a hehe appeared no mora 
nnroasonshle— and probabl|r maoh ieas so— 4faan a 
friendly present, or a fur oommeroial exchange, 
nreasea a crown-ineoe into the hand of iSbe harbors 
boy, whoee fingen closed on it mechanically, and 
afaarnptly kft the room. He had prok>nfled the inter- 
Tiew to the ntmost limzts onmria t wit wx& Ishs other's 
safebr, for the unnatnxal tenaioa of Diok'a facnlties 
conld be maintained no lonfier; he heard i^B ooont'a 
heavy footsteps passing tutni^ the front shop — 
who probably sarated its proprietor with his aoons- 
tomed oomrfcesY, for Mr Tipsawmy'a Toioe replied: 
'Good-bye, old dnmmy;' doobtless with a smile of 
creat obseqnipiisness— and he heard no more, but fell 
down, iauoe on the table, in a fafnting-fit, thereby 
upsetting the brandy bottle. 

The crash of the breaking daas brought Mrs 
Tipsawa^, who had a hoosekeeper^ ear for twit parti- 
colsr noiae, directly into tiie smoking-room; and her 
raised yoice, for wnich Mr T. had a mnband's eai^ at 
once sommoned that gentieman to her a— istanre 

'What do yon think of <*ts, Mr Tqisawayr cried 
she with bitterness, naturally, thon§^ somewhat 
unjustly, directinff her anger against the only animate 
c^eet ' What nave yon g^ to say for your pet 
apprentice now V 

Kow, it was well known tiiat Dick was rather the 
pet of the lady than of her hnaband, but when the 
female mind is excited, it not unecanmooly spurns 
the tiymmels of ynlgar &ot ; and Mrs Tipsaway kept 
her own mental powers parftwoladiy free uid fetterless 
in that respect 

'He's as dmnk as a young lord,' confessed Mr 
Tip sa wn y j^rnkgetieally ; 'iiiere is not a donbt of 
that.' 

' And i^ist do we want of yopr young lords here ? ' 
inquired the lady with indignatinm, ' Why mnst yon 
be piddngnp a yoong sweu like Ihis, who mnst have 
best Inaoh fanmdy, forsooth, and destroy the 
bottle aftst w aid s, when we mi^ hayie had a 
boy as cheap, or cheaper' 




ISpnway polled herself short np, when she had ^ 
thns fir, to emit an fiTprwisinii. of astonishment, whieh, 
in the month of a less genteel lady, mi^^ hare been 
Bustaken for a whistla 

'Look here!' cried she, exhibiting the boy's neok, 
tte erayat of which she had been fooaeoing ; ' some- 
body has been trying to throttle the lad. Here are 
tiie marks of four fingers and a thumb.' 

' Qotsadiakofi^ aotere/' mnimured the lad, with his 
eyes stin closed. 

The barber and his wife exdianged looks of pro- 
Boond terror. 

*That lad has been iniwlting the coont, and the 
teefgnjgentlemen will never coma here again, pethaps»' 
yoaa ecrMr Tipsaway, to whom the refugees paid a 
ymaj tolerable sum for the ecxdusive use en the 
SBMong-saioon. 'What have yon been doing, jrou 
yooBg rascal?' inc^aired he, at the same time ynng 
ms genteel apprentice a tremendous shaking. 'What 
hays you htem at, sir, eh !' 

*I saw nothing, I heard nothing^* replied poor Diok, 
who imagbied that the Rnsaisn was still cross- 
eacamsninghim; 'I only came to put things to rights 
Oh, it's you, Mr Tipsaway, is it?' 



'Tee, it's mi^ jwx. drunken young yagabond» and 

' Why,here's some money that tibs oonni 1^ ma to 
pay for the broken f^i^! quoth Dick, whose wita 



were reawakening * He was awfully dmnk though, 
for aU tiiai^ I do aasurs yon. He set on mc^ just 
because I could not understand his telegraphing like 
some wild animaL' 

' He went through the shop very steadily,' observed 
Mr Tipsaway, peroeptibly mollified by the silver, but 
still a tittle incredulous. 

'Hat may do for Mr T^ observed the better^hatf 
of that gentleman to herael^ ' but not for me^ yomtt 
gentleman : I heard the g^ass break tfier the eo^ 
left the house.' 

'Anyhow, he nearly choked me,' dbsenred Dick 
pettishly, and adjusting his neckcloth ; ' and I had 
ra&er not have anvthmg more to do with CSovil 
Gotsuohakoff, please.' 

' Pooh, pooh I he 'U forget it the next time h(9 corner' 
returned Mr Tipsaway ; ' and, besides, von are goina 
to-morrow, Smnh, to Miss Backboard^ instead^ 
Frizzle, who, she coomlains, ujiU giggle all the time he 
is cutting her young ladies' hair. The count will no4i 
certainly remember his drunken frolic for eig^tt-and« 
forty hours.' 

Ihok thoufi^t within himself, that if Mr Ti^wiy 
had felt the Russian's fingers at his own windpipe, he 
woukL not have deacriMd the occurrence quite so 
playfully; but since he had no desire to make tha 
barber nis confidant, he affected to be satisfied, and 
made no further complaint. 

Mr "Upaaway, who had heard the muffled oratorio 
in full performanoe in the &x>nt-shop for several 
minutes, nere rushed away to deprive the musician of 
his instrument, which he justly deemed was one that 
required a curtain or other means of concealment 
between the player and thenaieral pablie, at least as 
mudi as any organ. Mrs lipsaway st^ed behind to 
lay her hand upon the lad's shoulder confidentially, and 
to observe in a motherly tone: 'Gome, Dick, you musk 
teU me the truth, my lad, the whole truth, and nothing 
but the truth.' 

Diok knew enough of the dacacter of Mm Tips- 
away to be aware, that the commission of a aeeret to 
her ears would be about equivalent to advertiunnff ik 
in tiie eolnmns of any local newspaper of tol^uda 
circulatien; so he anuled sweetly — a tning Dick eonld 
always do when oonverang witn a lady>-«iid readied 
w^ nm^licity : ' 13ie whole truth about whstti 
ma'am?' m order to gain time for fictifaioas ooaik* 
position. 

' Kow, don't aoerayate me,' replied Mrs lipsaway — 
and this time wnn a dadb of piquancy in her aco|^t^ 
leas motherly thssi step-motherRr— 'mr I am doing • 
hair-chain mr a bride-elect» and can't afford to hmre 
my fingen aet all of a treoo^ble. What did the oount 
giye you that piece of money lor, and how caoie that 
bottle broken t' 

' / broke the bottle, Mrs Tqpsaway,' emlainwid tha 
youth, clasping his penitent hands. 

'And the money, the money?' cried the lady, 
stampiogher foot. 

'1^ count gave me the money for having thraahed 
me ao, because, because ' 

' Because he canght you helping yourself to his 
brandy,' cried Mrs Tipsaway, tnumphantly ftniahing 
thesentenoe. 

'Ah, yes, ma'am. I peroeive it is imposBble to 
deceive your sagacity. 

'Then dont trj it again. Smith, mind ^hai! con- 
tinned tiie lady with emphasn. ' Men have tried it — 
women have med it — ^Frizzle has tried it ; but it has 
never succeeded yet with Martiia Tipsaway. it is not 
very likely, therefore, that a ohiUL Uke you will havo 
much chance. Trust me, boy, and I win take you to 
my aims — that is to say, of course, you must keep 
your distance, and not forget that you are the 'prentioe^ 



92 



CHAMBBES'S JOURNAL. 



and I the missis; but try to Asceive me, yoimg 
gentleman, and ycax^U wlsn yourself one of them 
ngores ia the window, whose ears cannot feel a box, 
nor whose mouth appreciate victuals.' 

With which piece of didactics Mrs Tipsaway swept 
out of the room in a whirlwind of silk and cap-strings. 

CHAPTER XII. 
XIB8 backboabd's touxo lasibi. 

' Miss Backboard's fashionable seminary for young 
ladies was situated in a pleasant suburb of the metro- 
polis, and had a strip of garden lying in front of it, 
bearing the same relation to the house in superficial 
extent as each of the slices of carpet in the dormitories 
bore to its respectiTe bed. A holly-tree, signifi- 
cant of IVudence, kept watch at the garden-eate; 
the daisy, emblem of Innocence, blushed in its little 
srass-borders ; the modest violet, at its proper season, 
indicated, in its own sweet language, the character of 
the inmates of the establishment ; no red rose cried : 
' He is near ! — he is near ! ' no white rose wept : * He 
is late ! ' but such of Miss Backboard's vounc ladies 
as had got so far as to think about * him at all, were 
represented in that innocent plot by the unimpa- 
tient lily, which whispers, * I wait ; ' and, on one side 
of the gravel- walk that led to the front-door, by 
the acacia-tree, which sighs but of Platonic Love. 
Only, when Miss Backboard eradicated the wicked 
iris and the too demonstrative jonquil from her 
parterre, it was inconsistent of her to spare that 
Vircinian jasmine — symbol of separation — which 
dixnoed up the entire face of the house, and looked 
down, over the wall, upon the passion-flowers in the 
next garden. 

The jasmine might look, but the voung ladies 
mightn't. 'Not to look out of the window,' was one 
of the edicts of the Backboardian code, which might, 
for precautionary severity, have been drawn up by 
"Mm Praisegod &u«bones, for the benefit of female 
Oavaliers. Miss Backboard herself, however, was 
oonstantiy on the watch at one or other of the case- 
ments, like Sister Anne on Bluebeard's tower, and 
took note of eveiy male creature that came in at the 
little iron gate. She had already caused two bakers' 
boys to be dismissed from their situations, for whist- 
ling melodies relating to the affections as they 
approached her house; and a third was even now 
upon his trial for kissing his hand to her front- 
windows— tiie defence set up by the accused party 
being, that he was only engaged with his pocket- 
han&erchief. The postman was not permitted to 
intrust his letters for the establishment to any hand 
but hers; and she winnowed the correspondence 
thus obtained with, a skill and completeness that Sir 
James Graham and his mjrrmidons might have 
envied. A pink envelope, or an envelope with a 
sealing-wax 'kiss' upon it, or with an affectionate 
motto on its seal, was arrested by her vigilant fingers 
as a health-officer would seize upon some infected 
wretch whose escape from quarantine must needs 
bring death and desolation into a thousand homes. 
No male handwriting was suffered to pass at all 
without inquiry of the would-be recipient; and if 
the serpent who wrote it was no nearer of kin than a 
bachelor-cousin, the missive was ruthlessly torn up, 
and scattered to the wanton winds. Nor was the 
export-trade less strictly watched than the import. 
All letters except to bond-Jide relatives were inspected. 
Yes, conscientious Miss Backboard did mdc^d 
peruse the whole of the correspondence between the 
young ladies of her own establishment and their 
' eternal friends' at similar educational seminaries or 
elsewhere : tvrice a week that indefatigable female 
performed the awful task in its completeness, begin- 
ning with, 'Mv own dearest, dearest Isabel' in the 
miodle of the fust page, and so, through the slanting 
shower of affectionate commonplaces to the all- 



important postscript No. 2. No wonder the good 
lady was consumed by anxieties, and haggard witii 
suspicions; no brain could stand such letter-reading 
twice a week for long. She looked for hidden 
meanings in sentences wherein the writer had aea 
no necessity for inserting any meaning at all ; she 
scorched the missives before the fire, with a view of 
bringing forth the secrets concealed in leman-jnioe 
that were never there ; she conceived that waoB 
crafiy cipher lay in the frequent and unneoeeBary 
dashes which italicised the general contents, and 
imagined el<^)ementB and rope-ladders lurked in 
the very loops of the /s. 

It was Miaa Backboard herself who did Master 
Richard Arbour, otherwise Smith, the honour of 
receiving him at her own door-step, having reocai- 
noitred him for several minutes — as a medieval porter 
might have eyed a stran^r knight — ^before adnutting 
him to even that proximity. 

* Whence come ^ou, boy ?' quoth she, in that blank- 
verse style exceedingly popular with ladies of scholas- 
tic pursuits, when their time and tempers permit them 
to make use of it. ' Whence come you, and from 
whom?' 

' I am the new barber's boy from Mr Tipsaway's, 
please, ma'am.' 

Miss Backboard's eagle eye detected in the Genteel 
Touth too pronounced a gentility. 

* I mistrust you, bov, returned she ; * my mind 
misgives me : do you play a part with me ?' 

* No, please, ma'am, I plav nothing. Frizzle plavs 
a good deal, when master will let him ; but the oni^ 
time I ever tried, I broke a tooth.' 

* Broke a tooth ! ' echoed the astonished school- 
mistress ; *I don't know what you mean ; I don't see 
that you have any teeth broken.' 

* lio, please, ma'am ; it was only the tooth of the 
comb that was broken. Frizzle always {days upon 
a comb; It cost me eightpence to' 

' Gk>od gracious I I hope yon don't bring that oanAt 
here?' cried Miss Backward sharply. 

' no, ma'am ; that would not be ** eomme U 
fcail^'' ' smiled Dick, with his best accent. The natnie 
of his mission tickled the lad immensely, and put 
him in spirits too hifih for his position. 

' What ! you speak French ?' exclaimed the terrified 
lady. * You are no barbells boy.' 

* Perruquier, if you please, madam; ^es, thai is 
what I am. It is essential to our fashicmable conr 
necti(m, says Mr Tipsaway, that one, at least, in the 
establishment should have some knowledge of thai 
language. I learned it from my boyhood.' 

'Bo;^ood!' screamed Miss Backboard. 'Why, what 
do you call yourself now ?' 

*Mr Tipsaway calls me one of his young men, 
ma'am. "One of my young men will be at your 
house to-dav. Miss Backbofud," he wrote, TwiAiting 
myself ; and, indeed, I am more than f ourte^i yean 
ola already.' 

' Fourteen,' murmured the schoolmistress to hoBMif ; 
* that is not a dangerous age. Hum ! Yes, you may 
come in.' 

She ushered him into a small apartment on 
the right of the entrance, huiu; round with blank 
maps and a few unframed lancbcapes ; a couple ci 
enormous globes filled each a recess on either side 
of the fireplace, and a few books of the MangnalPi 
Qttestions class leaned up a^^ainst one another on 
their shelves in a manner which, under any roof less 
correct than Miss Backboard's, would have suggested 
intoxication. An inclined plane — torture-engine pecu- 
liar to females — stood in one comer, and a pair of 
dumb-bells (probably the only ones in the house) in 
another. The apartment vras, in diort, devoted to the 
severer branches of the educational course, inclusive^ 
as it subsequently appeared, of hair-cutting. 

Miss Backboard ran^ the belL ' Elizabeth,' observed 
she to the domestic, with the air of a stage-monaroh 









I 



OHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



93 



ordering a banauet, * let a cloth be spread, and inform 
thooe young ladies who require his servioes, that this 
person — ^the yoong person from Mr Tipsaway's — is 
awaitine them in the Geomphical Chamber. And, 
Elizabetii, tell Miss Onum>by to come down first, 
because her dressing-gown is the largest, and will 
do for all the others.' 

By the time Master Richard had arranged the cloth 
upon the floor, and put on the kangaroo apron, the 
young lady iof (][ue8tion made her appearance. A 
loose and volummous pink robe concealed the form 
which was also doubtless voluminous and pink ; but 
the sight of her chubby cheeks and good-numoured 
eyes ought to have satisfied anybody. 

*I thmk you foraot your curtsey, Miss Grumbby,' 
observed the schoounistress with mark^ severity. 

That yoxms lady immediately rose from the 
cane-bottomed chair and made a prof otrnd obeisance. 

Master Richard Smith, in imitation of the Chevalier 
de Crespigny, bowed almost to the eround. 

' Be quiet, boy ! ' ejaculated Miss Backboard shairJy. 
' Do you suppose that my pupil bowed to you ? ' The 
schoolmistress seated herself on the upper extremity 
of the inclined plane, and from that station super- 
intended the operations. 

'You are looking out of window. Miss Crumbby, 
which is forbidden; be good enough to keep your 
eyes fixed on the ground.' 

Miss Crumbby did not reply ; but Dick perceived 
the back of her neck to become of a deeper rose- 
colour, and her plump figure to shake as with secret 
lanehter beneath his admiring eyes. 

* You are exposing your hand. Miss Crumbby, in an 
indelicate manner. Where are your mits, which I 
have particularly directed to be worn in the presence 
of strangers ?' 

* I thought, madam,' replied the young lady, speak- 
ing in the French tongue, for the private ear of the 
scnoolmistress, ' that you only meant we should do so 
in the presence of grown-up gentlemen, and that for 
this little boy here 

' Silence, girl ! ' exclaimed the schoolmistress hastily, 
and in Gemian : * ** the little boy here," as you dH 
him, understands French.' 

Miss Crumbby bit her lips, and again Dick perceived 
an undulatory motion communicated to the entire 
dressing-gown beneath him. 

Before this young ladv left the room, indeed, she 
had earned for herself a aozen rebukes, and one most 
barbarous punishment — a wooden mark was suspended 
from, her ample neck, the presence of which ornament 
forbade any companion to communicate with her 
except in the German language, wherein she had 
shewn herself no great proficient in the Geographical 
Chamber. How long tnis was to be endured, Dick 
did not know ; but he was relieved to hear Miss 
Cmmbbjr's cheerful laugh as she ran upstiurs, appa- 
rently witii the lightest of hearts, though with a step 
that went nigh to shake the establishment. 

Angd aft^ luiffel, sylph after sylph, came down 
and arrayed hersdf in tne voluminous pink, imder 
Dick's assiduous hands. He did not gig^e, like Mr 
Frizde, he did not again even venture upon bowing, 
Ifloe M. de Crespigny. Miss Backboard began to he 
noUified by his perfect behaviour, and to entertain 
tha* trust in his methodical quietness which she had 
denied to his tender years; she yawned while the 
fifteenth seraph was having her tips taken ofi^ and 
inquired languidly whether there was any more to 
ooine. The seraph replied that there was only Miss 
Mickleham to come, who had been delayed until last 
fay reason of her being under punishment. 

' Very well, then,' replied Miss Backboard loftily ; 
* you TOBj tell her that it is her turn when you have 
wme.' With which that imperial female launched 
herself off her inclined plane with the air of a ship of 
ninety guns, and sailed majestically out of the 
xoom. 



* Queer old lady that) is she not?' observed the 
fifteenth seraph mterrogatively, about two minutes 
after the door had closed, and when it was made 
clear, by the creaking of the stairs, that her precep- 
tress had really left uie keyhole. 

Master Richard Arbour, who had remarked the 
young lady under present treatment as being by 
far the best behaved and most rigid of aU the 
heavenly bodies that had preceded her, was perfectly 
aghast at this familiarity. 

* Look here,' pursued she, producing a considerable 
bundle of lett^ stamped, sealed, and directed in 
readiness for her Majesty's mails, *put l^ese in 
your pocket, and make haste. I have been trying to 
make you take hold of them this five minutes, only 
you 're such a stupid boy. I was within half a second 
of running a hair-pin into you, I do assure you.' 

Dick took the packet with an air of the prof oundest 
astonishment. * Well, and what am I to do with 
them, please, miss, now I 've got 'em ?' 

*Why, post 'em,' ejaculated the young lady 
snappisnly. * What on earth do you suppose ought to 
be done with them ? We always got Frizzle to poet 
'em, before you came, and we eiroect, of course, wat 
you vdll do as much for us. Here's half-a-crown, 
and we 're much obliged to you for your trouble.' 

'Mademoiselle,' replied Master Richard Arbour, 
laying his hand and scissors on his heart, ' I will post 
the letters with pleasure ; but to take your money for 
doing it is a thing quite out of the question.' 

'Well, that's polite, at all events,' replied the 
young lady, rising and approaching the glass. 'But I 
don't think you cut my hair quite so well as the 
other. Why doesn't that stin^ old lady let us have a 
couple of mirrors ? One positively can t see how one 
looks. How do I look benind, boy ? ' 

The startled Dick hastened to give it as his opinion 
that she looked channing from every possible point of 
view ; whereupon the fifteenth seraph laughed, and 
said he was a nice lad. 

'Only,' she added, 'don't you go telling Miss 
Mickleham about those letters, mina, because she's 
a little ' — a pantomimic action of the hands, significant 
of staylacing, here took place — 'a little stnut-laced, 
you know, l£at 's all. Good-bye, boy. Thank ye I ' 

With which adieu the young lady opened the door, 
and called Miss Micklenam in much such a tone as 
one female saint might evoke another to martyrdom : 
' MiM Mickleham, tEe young penon is waiting to cut 
your hair. 

Every male individual beneath a certain rank in 
the social scale was held in Miss Backboard's estab- 
lishment to be a ' person,' while all above and of that 
rank were spoken of (and even that but very rarely) as 
' gentlemen.' The word * man ' was entirely ignored, 
and x>erhaps unknown at Acacia House. 

Most of the young ladies had hitherto floated into 
the apartment as though the air were water, and the 
little material substance that belonged to them had 
been made of cork; but Miss Mickleham used a 
somewhat graver mode of progress, either in conse- 
quence of being under punishment, or by reason of 
having a number of works upon Political Economy 
in her hands, that the author had the temerity to caU 
' popular,' but which, nevertheless, may have kept her 
down a little. Tba.t abstruse science oppressed her 
existence at Miss Backboard's (who considered its 
study to be a jmrt of woman's mission), just as Fntc- 
tice had oppressed poor Dick elsewhere, and he intui- 
tively sympaiiiised with her as she put down, by the 
side of we terrestrial^obe, all the volumes, save one, 
witii a great sigh. Inat one she was bound never 
to part wiUi, eating or drinking, sleeping or hair- 
cutting, until she had mastered certain rather imenter- 
taining chapters U]X>n the drain of gold; and she sat 
down witihi it in her hand in the pi& dres8inj|;-gown. 
Dick's tender heart would have been touched by sij^t 
of that young cheek robbed of half its bloom oy 



94 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



Bonow, and by those long Uadc eytbaheB steqwd in 
teaia, had he not detected by her Hkenesa to her 
Either tiiie beaatifal daughter of good Mr Midde- 
ham of Darkeodim Street, at the fixSb glanoe. 

As it was, the memoiy of the old man's hindiMWH 
moved lum so, awakening, as often happens, other 
memories with it of loving hearts now sundered from 
his own perhaps for ever, that hU eyes too began 
to fill with dew, which presently overflowing than, 
descended in a couple oi large warm tears upon the 
yonng lad^s neck. The tresses that should have 
protected it were in Dick's trembling hands, so that 
thev Idl directly npon the velvet skin with certainty 
of oeteotion, ttia the sixteenth sean^h jumped np from 
her chair, and exchanged the drain of gda for a shrill 
note of indignation. 

* How dare yon, sir?' she began; then, looking at 
Dick's tearfoi face, she sank her voice — ' What aik 
yon, my good boy ? Is there anything I can do Uxr 
you, poor lad?' 

* Yes, dear yonn^ lady, yes.' 

The dear young lady looked like a ruffled swan at 
this exordimn. 

' Tell your good father that Richard Arbour is not 
uncratenil to him, though he may have seemed so, 
and that he could not look upon his daughter in her 
sorrow without being sad himself.' 

*Are you Mr Arbour's nephew, then, that ran 
away ?' cried she. ' Oh, pray go back — pray do, while 
there is time. Your undo is being more and more 
set acainst you than ever. Papa can do little for 
you, thoufi^ he has tried his best; but perhaps, if 
you would come back, he might do samettiinA. Do, 
pray, come at once to u»— t£at is, to Aim. This is 
where we live.' She tore the fly-leaf out of the book 
she held, which happened to have her name and 
direction on it, and Diol^ kissed it gratefully, and 
put it carefully away. 

* Perhaos I will, dear young lady ; and if I am taken 
back, it snail at least be tm^ugh your father. For- 
give my rudeness and impertinence^ 

*HuBhr cried the gxri; *I hear Miss Backboard 
coming. I have nothing to forgive in you — ^nothing.' 
She snatched up h^ bmks fnun their resting-^laoe, 
and was about to leave the room, when the vdummous 
dressing-gown which she had forgotten to throw off, 
caught m the projecting leg of the terrestrial globe, 
and in anothv moment there was a frightful crash, 
and poor Miss Mickleham stood in horror amidst the 
wreck of the universe. 

' Good heavens ! ' died the schoolmistress, rushing 
in, * what has happened ? Tou clumsy little barber's 
monkey you, what have you done ?' 

' I couldn't help it, ma'am,' cried Dick, without an 
instant's hesitation ; ' my apron caught in it just as I 
was tryinff to look out JerusalenL I had done with 
the yonnff lady, ma'am, and always wishing to improve 
myself when opportunity offers, was' 

' Silence, sir ! ' interrupted Miss Backboerd vidously. 
* Leave the room. Miss mickleham, without one word, 
if you i)lea8e— without one syllable. You have done 
me an irreparable damage, l>oy, and you shall never 
come to tins house again. 

' You have got an<%ier £^be, ma'am, havent you ?' 
replied Didc, pretending to whimper, but secretly 
delighted with naving saved Miss Mickleham from tfaie 
wrath of her mistress. 

* Yes, you idiot,' ejaculated Miss Backboard ; ' but 
it's a celestial one. Do you suppose that these globes 
are duplicates 7 If Mr Tipsaway doesn't pumd you 
petty severdy, my lad, it will not be for want of a 
line from me, 1 do assure you.' 

Dick was rather afraid of Miss Backboard's antid- 
pating the promised chastisement there aiul then, and 
made haste to get out oi Acacia House as soon as he 
could ; and, inifeed, she was not able to resist aiming 
a box at his ears as he passed her at the front-door, 
which he only duded by great forethought and 



activity. As soon as the garden-gate dinged Mtind 
l»iTn, however, Dick's face became radiant wiUi kanpi 
ness; and puOinff out the address whidi Miv MjoUs* 
ham had given io him, proceeded tp mBuckm& m it a 
coosidenlue loc^ of soft Inown hair, whicih he lad 
covertly muppedi from that yomg lady's li 



GEMS AND JEWELa* 

Thzbs is nothing in all ' the wotld's foraitare* at cms 
so costly and so worthless as a predoos stoBe. Jht 
satisfaction which the contemplation of it produces ii 
more superficial than that which is affiirded 1^ the 
meanest flower ; for the meanest flower, we are told 
on high authority, may awake thoughts too deep for 
tears, and the finest diamond or peail cannot aooos^ 
plish thatb The only value they possess beT^nd tiist 
conferred upon them by fisahioi> arises from tfaev 
rarity and durability ; and even £uhion, has first to 
be certified that it is the real thing, and not a coon- 
terfdt, upon which she bestows her favour, for peadi 
have daoled her, before now, which had neysr lain ia 
oyster-bed, and a bit of rock-crystal has m,OKe tiban 
once eclipsed the treasures of Golconda. 

Not long ago, in Brazil, at Villa Rica, a fm 
negro became possessed of a diamond so enonnoai^ 
that he begged permission to present it himself ti 
the prince-regent * A carriage and an esoort wvs 
forthwith despatched to take mm to court Bla^if 
threw himself at the regent's feet, and exhihiied 
his diamond. The prince uttered an exclamatsa 
of surprise— the lords present were astounded: thi 
stone weighed nearly a pound! The oourtien int 
mediatdy set to work to find out the number of 
milli<ms this monstrous jewd was worth. Tht 
great stone of Villa Rica, valued at troy wd^ 
made a total of 2560 carats. Deducting the six^ 
carats for what little the stone lacked of a poan4 
there yet remained 2500 carats. In order to sseeitiiii 
the commercial value of the stone, the carat must bi 
multiplied by the square. The square of 2600 ii 
6,250,000, and estimating the carat at only 150 frucs, 
the common price, we nave the sum of 937,600,000 
francs ; and, as large diamonds are no longer subndttsd 
to the tariff, and as their nominal price increases in 
proportion as they exceed the orcunary dimenaiflaii 
the rortognese noblemen probably estimated the stosN 
at two mmiards, or, like thorou^ courtiers, i^ fioir. 
'However this may be, the inestimable jewd was 
sent to the treasury, with a strong escort, and deposilsd 
in the hall of gems. As Mr Mawe was at Rio Jansirs 
when this wonderful discovery was made, the *"*^H— ' 
sent for him, and communicated to him all the parti- 
culars regarding the phenomenon ; but at the sams 
time expressed his private doubts of its reality. Ths 
English mineralogist was invited to examme ths 
incomparable briluant, and fix its value. Furnished 
with a letter from each mimster — ^without which for* 
mality he could not be admitted — ^Mr Mawe went 
throu^ several rooms, and crossed a great hall hnafl 
with crimson and gold, in whidi was a statue « 
natural size representing Justice with her eealss. 
Finally, he reached a room in which were Bevssd 
chests ; three ofiSoers, each having a key, opened oas 
of these chests, and the treasurer with much solemaity 
exhibited the supposed diamond. Before tonduDg 
the stone, Mr Mawe had already seen ^lat it was 
nothing but a piece of rounded ciystal; he proved 
this on the instant by scratching it with a red 
diamond, and this luckless scratch at once annihilated 
all the millions supposed to have bem added to the 
treasury. The prince-regent recdved the news vary 



* Oems and JevreU. From the Sarliat Agn doten to tke PrtMesi 
Time. By Madame de Barrenu Bentley. 



OHAMBERSrS JOURNAL. 



95 



opliioally ; but poor Blackey, who had coow m 
ijige» wu left to tnvel b«ck on foot^ 

Iwgest real (HamoBd in the would, bdanging to 
ajah of Mattan, in Borneo^ is still nncnt, and 
I 367 caiati : H has no xxral nearer tium the 

diamond, of 193 carats. It has never bean 
tit to Europe, thonfih the fforemor of Batayia 
offered to the rajah 160,000 oollan for it, m well 
3 laige war-brisB, with their ffuns and ammnni- 
Ad a conaideraDle onantityoi powder and shot 
mmber of diamonds in the world abore 100 
' weight, indudinff the two already mentioned, 
r six ; bat the hinoiy of each of these— which 
lied i)ara{yDn«— is a romance in itsell 

Ortofff aocordin£ to some aoooimts. formed cme 

eyes of the idol Scherinfl^bam, in we temple of 
la. The fame of these bright eyes haring reached 
dn French grenadier of PondiAeny, heoeserted, 
Bd the religion and manners of the Brahmins, 
absequently succeeded in escming with one of 
yeted orbs. He sold the lewd to a sea-captain 
,000 &ancs ; the sea-captam wM it to a Jew for 
; and an Armenian, named Shafrsss, boneht it 
much larger sum, anid disposed ^ it to C:>unt 

for the £npres8 Catharine, for 460,000 roubles, 
mnt of Russian nobility. 

Kegent Diamond is the most perfect, and the 
water of the parag(m$. It onomally weighed 
rats ; but the cutting of it as a brilliant, i^ch 
two years' labour, and cost L.d000, reduced 
e to 137 carats. This diamond, which is also 
the PiU, was stolen from Golconda, and sold to 
indfather of the Earl of Chatham, whengoyemor 
rt St George, in the East Indies, lor L.20,000, 
[^ Pope su^^este that that gentleman purloined 
a the origina^thief— 

Asleep and naked, as an Indian lay. 
An honest &ctor stole the gem away. 

^ench. king purchased it for L.92,000, Mr Pitt 
ing the fragments taken off in the cutting ; but 
ine is now estimated at double the price paid 
This jewel was pawned by Napoleon, made a 
al bait by Talleyrand to seduce Prussia, and 

by robbers, who only returned it because of 
Impossibility of disposing of it without detection, 
aun conyict in the French gallejys for some time 
)d a hi^ pre-eminence among lus f ellowB as ' the 
vho hM stolen the Resent.* 
\ Star of the South, the laitteat diamond eyer- 
tit from Brazil, was discoyerecT by three wretched 
ondemned to perpetual banishment in the wildest 
I the interior, but who of coune obtained the 
tion of their sentence. 

h and last of the paragon diamonds is the 
•noor, now weighing but one hundred and two 
, but supposed to naye once been the largest 
nown, ana the same seen by Tayemier among 
iwels of the Great MoguL It is confidently 
m1 that this famous gem belonged to Karna, 
f Anga, three thousand years tap. ' According 
render, this gem was presented to Cha-Gehan, 
ther of Aurungzebe, by Mirzimola, when that 
[ general, having belrayed his master, the king 
xMxnda, took refuge at the court of the Great 
. Since it was admired by the French trayeller, 
iamond has passed through the hands of seyeral 
I princes, and iJways by yiolen<fe or fraud, 
ist Eastern possessor was the famous Rnnjeet 

king of Lahore and Cashmere, from whom it 
I into the hands of the English on the anneza- 
f the Punjaub : it was brought to London in 

' The king of Lahore had obtained this jewel in 
QfOwing manner : haying heard that the king of 
possessed a diamond that had belonged to the 
Mogol, the largest and purest known, ne inyited 
rtnnate owner to his court, and there, haying 

his power, demanded his diamond. The guest, 



however, had provided hmwrff against sndi a con- 
tingency, with a perfect imitation of the coveted 
jeweL After some show of resistance, he reluctantly 
acceded to the wishes of his powerful host. The 
ddi^ of Ronjeet was extreme, out of short dntatiott, 
the lapidary to whom he gave orders to mount his 
new acqtrisition pronouncing it to be merely a bit of 
crystal The mortification and rage of the despot 
were unbounded ; he immediately caused the pence 
of the king of Cabul to be inyested, and ransacked 
from top to bottom. But for a kms while all search 
was yam : at last, a slaye betrayed the secret ; the 
diamond was fbnnd concealed beneath a heap of adna. 
Rnnjeet Sin^ had it set in an armlet, between two 
diamonds, eaich the size of a sparrow-egg.* 

According to Mr Tennant, the great Russian 
diamond singularly corresponds with the Koh-i-noor, 
so as to sufiSiest tiiat the two once formed a sinfiie 
crystal ; ana when united, they would, allowing lot 
the detaching of seyeral smaller pieces in the process 
of cleaving, make up the wei^t described by 
Tavemier. 

What bloodshed, what heart-burnings, what tedious 
and expensive negotiations have each of these shimns 
pebbles cost its various jMssessors, and how exceef 
ingly small the nstification of having obtained them 
at last, independently of the soothing thought that 
nobody else has oot mem ! If it were not uselen to 
lift up our single yoioe against an almost nzdvearsal 
custouL we would ask what more barbarous and 
outlandish usage can be imagined, than that which 
obtains amongst even our kii^s daughters and most 
honourable women, of drilling a hole in the lobes of 
their ears for the reception of a jewel ? and why are 
they so ready to exclaim ' savage * against a maiden 
who may sioularly adorn her nose 7 Let us, however, 
be thankful that in these days, if not cured of our 
lunacy, there is at least some measure to our madness 
in connection with precious stones ; that no monarch 
of a starving people would now offer three millions of 
crowns for the possession of a useless diamond, as 
Louis XV. did; und that no living Englishman would 
so mistake the meazung of loyalty to nis queen as to 
grind a pearl worth L.16,000 into a cup of wine, in 
order to fitiy drink her health, as dia Sir Thomas 
Gresham. This plagiarist from Cleopatra has had 
mai^ a rival in more modem times. The courtiers of 
Louis XV. were wont, in their insane extravagance, to 
pulverise their diamonds. ' A lady having expressed 
a desire to have the portrait of hSsr canary in a ring, 
^e last Prince de Conti requested she would allow 
him to ^ve it to her ; die accepted, on condition that 
no precious gems should be set in it When the ring 
was brought to her, however, a diamond covered the 
painting. The lady had the brilUant taken out of 
the setting and sent it back to the giver. The prince, 
detenmnra not to be gainsaid, caused the stone to be 
ffround to dust, which he used to dry the ink of the 
fetter he wrote to her on the subject' 

As to the association of gems with dress, the 
accounts of past extravagance which Madame de 
Barren gives us in this ydume are of a nature to 
make PaSsrfamilias shudder, inured to crinoline thouch 
he be. Nor were the ladies by any means the oiuy 
spendthrifts. One court suit of King James* ' Sweete 
GoBseppe,' the Duke of Buckingham, cost no less than 
L.80,000. Nay, to come quite close to our own times, 
when Murat took refuse in Corsica after the fall of 
the empire, Although ne had in nioney but 10,00Q 
francs, which he carried in his belt, the biuid around 
his hat was worth 90,000 ; one of his epaulets, 60,000; 
while he carried about with him two diamonds valued 
at 200,000 francs. In all ages, in short, and in all 
countries, this passionate admiration f6r predoos 
stones has been exoeedindy remarkable; and they 
have been used in Holf Wnt itsdf, for the most solemn 
comparisons, and to denote the highest degree of 
pof ection— the New Jerusalem, even, being refeakd 



06 



GHAMBEBS^S JOURNAL. 



to St John under the figure of an edifice with a wall 
of jasper, while each of its twelve doors iras a smgle 
pesri. 

In the Talmud, it \b asserted that the ark was lit 
onl y try precious stones — so that the famous question 
of '"Wnere was Noah when his candle went out?* 
would seem to be to the last degree unauthorised and 
extravagant. From the same venerable paffes we 
learn tiiat one object in nature ia alone to be esteemed 
of higher value than pearls — ^namely, a pretty woman. 
' On approachiug Egvpt, Abraham locked Sarah in a 
chest that none might behold her dangerous beauty. 
** But when he was come to the place of paying custom, 
the cdlector said: 'Pay us the custom.' And he 
raid : ' I will pav the custom.' They said to him : 
* Thou earnest clothes/ and he said : ' I wiU pay for 
clotheQ.' Then they said to liim: 'Thou earnest 
gold,' and he answered them : * I will pay for my 
ffold.' On this they further said to him: 'Surely 
thou bearest the finest silk ;' he replied : ' I will pay 
custom for the finest silk.' Then said they : ' Surely 
it must be pearls that thou takest with thee,| and he 
only answered : ' I will j>ay for pearls.' Seeing that 
they could name nothing of value for which the 
patriarch was not willing to pay custom, they said : 
' It cannot be but thou open the box, and let us see 
what is within.' So they opened the box, and the 
whole land of Esypt was illumined by the lustre of 
Sarah's beauty — Wc exceeding even that of pearls." ' 

And this pretbr story in connection with ' gems and 
jewels ' is the only piece of sentiment or poetry which 
we remember to have been shed upon the custom- 
house authorities of any nation. 



OCCASIONAL NOTES. 

CO-OPERATION. 

In a tract on Co-operation (the first of a series on 
Social Science, by W. Chambers), it was stated that 
the Eouitable Pioneers' Co-operative Society of 
Rochdale had, during 1859, done business to the 
extent of L104,012, and that the profits realised 
amounted to L10,739. From the published Report, 
which has just reached us, it appears that ite busmess 
done by the Society in 1860 amounted to L 152,063, 
and that the profits were L15,906— within a trifle of 
£16,000 realised by a body of workiog-men, simply 
through a method of supplying themselves with the 
necessaries of life ! These facts are so remarkable 
that they seem deserving of publicity. At Bury, 
another Lancashire town, there appears to be a 
co-operative store concern approximating in success 
to that of Rochdale. We see, that although it began 
but five years ago, with only a capital of L14, the 
business done by it alreadv readies L.50,000 per 
annum. We might expect uiat, with sudi exam^es 
of marked success, bodies of working-men in all parts 
of the country would attempt siniilar co-operative 
associations. Unfortunately, for some reasons or 
other, schemes of this kind have often either failed 
entirely or made poor profinress. Such is the case 
particularly in Scotland. The eood common-sense, 
aptitude for business, and integrify of the Lancashire 
operatives in carrying out plans of co-operation, 
cannot be sufficiently applauded. 

LIFE-BOATS. 

A great effort, as we understand, is in the course of 
being made to extend the system of life-boats alon^g 
the shores of the United Kuu^om ; and as thin 
most praiseworthy object can be effected only by 
charitable contributions, we b^ to commend it to 
general notice. From a lately published report, it 
appears that the Royal life-boat Association (office, 
H John Street, Adel^ii, London), expended last 
year upwards of L.1100 in awards for saving 499 
pnaons from drowning by shipwreck on our coasts. 



The number oi lives saved by life-boats 
other means, since the formation of the society, 
been 11,824^ for which services 82 gold medals, 
silver medals, and L13,000 in cash, have 
dispensed as rewards ; the institution has also 
pended nearly L40,000 on life-boat estabUshm 
The stories told of the successful efforts made to i 
life by these boats in the case of frightful storm 
the coasts, are of the most thrilling nature, 
would form a volume as interesting as anythin 
romance. After all was done, last year, as d 
as 1600 penona were drowned along the shore 
the British islands ; and keepins in mind that d 
of these might have been saved, had life-boats 
at hand, it should require small persuasion froi 
to enforce the claims ox this most useful Associati 



LITTLE FLORENCE. 

LiTTLi Florence, fond and free, 
Plajing hj the apple-tree, 
laughing on her mother^s knee — 

Sunbeams slanting on her hair, 
Flowing wreaths of flowrets fair 
Dangling from her in the air. 

Fast and faster go her feet 

Where the grass and sunshine meet : 

Joyful Florence ! — Life is sweet. 

Little Florence, mild and weak, 
Trouble looking from her cheek, 
Scarcely can she move or speak — 

Looks out to the falling rain — 
All a mother's cares are rain ; 
Pillows may not ease her pain. 

Gladness has a flitting will — 
How came she to taste of ill? 
Joy is evanescent still. 

Little Florence, weak and worn, 
Like a faint star left forlorn, 
Trembling on the point of mom. 

Angel forms are in the air. 
Flitting on the golden stair, 
Bearing up a mother's prayer. 

Little Florence, cold and dead, 
Green grass growing overhead, 
Waiting for thy wonted tread — 

Lying by the apple-tree — 
Sunshine comes to look for thee. 
Gomes to crown thy wonted glee. 

And thy mother leaves her home. 
Gomes here, where she used to come : 
Silent Florence ! Death is dumb. 

Little Florence, clothed in white, 
Looking back upon the night, 
Standing in the shadeless light — 

Walking up the golden street, 
Sitting at the Saviour's feet, 
Where the pure and holy meet. 

Shadows stood on yonder shore, 
Waiting for thee heretofore. 
They shall wait for thee no more. 

Thou didst pass them o'er the flood. 
Left them standing where they stood— 
Angel Florence ! God is good. 

David Rabsh 



Printed and Published by W. & R Chambers, 47 ] 
noster Bow, London, and 339 High Street, Edikbi 
Also sold by William Robbbtson, 23 Upper Sad 
Street, DuBUir, and all Booksellers. 




S titxxt t aiib ^rts. 



CONDUCTED BY WILLIAM AND BOBEBT CHAMBEBS. 



SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 16, 1861. 



Price IM 



IDEAS OF MAJOR TRUEFITT 

ON LOGIC. 

a strange thing to say, yet I say it advisedly, 
elity to logic is the cause of many of those 
f individuals which least enjoy the appro- 
Minerva ; and the great bulk of mankind are 
<o maintain that even tenor of procedure 
most satisfactory to the genius of common 
consequence of their happy insensibility to 
itiments of logic. 

lose religion is the true one, are liable to be 
startled now and then by seeing an esteemed 
rverted to another, and, of course, a wrong 
; is a clever, sharp-witted man : how comes it ? 
e is a loyal logician. He has probably got 
r data on certain great questions, or has been 

give some attention to those which formerly 

1 in his mind. If unable to reason these out 
he would have been safe; nine-tenths of 
are so, merely because they do not see the 

taring of anything they know or might know 

subject. But, his mind being logical, no 
i he accept the premises, than he was forced 
he conclusion, thereby imdergoing a change 
tions. It only then depended on his posses- 
rtain degree of moral courage, that he should 
corresponding change in his professions ; in 

over to the other church. You say, there 
re been an error somewhere. Well, possibly 
3, but it would be in the premises — the so 
d facts, principles, truths, and so forth, on 
3 reasoning proceeded. These were probably 
with little hesitation, or were viewed under 

light which made idl little difficulties dis- 
The true faith has lost an adherent mainly 
ihe cogency of logic in the mind of the per- 
le more clear and rigorous that power, the 
isure in exercising it, and the more liability 
Tied away by it from old land-marks and 
'US. If there be any shade of martyrdom 
ise, it would, with a morally courageous or 

person, only give a piquancy to the affair, 
3 retiu*n or repentance more hopeless. 
I of martyrdom — there is a great deal of logic 
»th the martyrer and the martyred will gene- 
3und to be loyal logicians. What can be more 
le than the propositions of a reformer at the 
' If I deny the true faith, I subject myself to 

infinitely worse than that with which I am 
atened. By submitting to the latter, I simply 
hoice of a lesser in contrast to a greater eviL 
'ay, then, with the fagots!* What, on the 
id, can }>c more undeniable than the logic of 



the judge who has condenmed the reformer ? ' The 
errors which this man was propagating are attended 
with endless pain and hopeless destruction to millions ; 
by cutting off* his one mortal life just now, we save 
something more than mortal life to all that indefinite 
multitude. It is a sad case ; but my duty lies straight 
before me. He must bum ! ' Here it is evident that 
both would have been spared the distress of the 
burning — the one in the active, the other in the neuter 
sense — if the logical faculty had been a little obscurer. 
Had there been a failure of logic even on one side — 
had the reformer seen less distinctly the consequences 
of his drawing back from the right faith, or the judge 
the connection between heresy and its remote results 
— the fire might never have been kindled. In the 
great controversy between two such men as Calvin 
and Servetus, it is a tug of logic which we see in the 
first place. Both are dreadfully clear-seeing men. 
We have only to own that there is a sort of unfairness 
as to conclusions, when the one disputant has a fire at 
his back in which to close the argument : a sort of 
practical last vjord. In all other particulars, the 
strictest rules of the science may have been, and 
probably were, observed. 

The abuse of positions of power, in general, is very 
often connected with a loyal logic. I have no doubt 
that Robespierre was a strict logician. An old friend 
of his, living not long ago in Paris, always insisted on 
his having been a man very amiable in society. The 
carpenter's &mily, with whom he lived, had no fault 
to find with him; on the contrary, liked him. It 
was merely this : ' Here are a set of aristocrats and 
traitors tlureatening to prevent that regeneration of 
France which is to produce unheard-of happiness to 
its entire population; shall the few suffer, or the 
many?' With the matter thus logically put, could a 
clear-headed man hesitate, even though he might be 
rather sorry that the business of keeping thingp right 
lay with the guillotine? So also of the late king of 
Naples. I have it on good evidence that he was 
possessed of some princely qualities: he could occa- 
sionally do a kind thing in a very polite way. 
But — it appearing to him that anarchy and all its 
miseries necessarily fiowed from the principles of the 
liberals, he felt bound to silence ^ese gentlemen. 
Their prisons were no doubt unpleasant; bat better 
that a few troublesome advocates and professors 
should suffer a little inconvenience, than that the 
whole nation should be damaged. In losing a kingdom, 
such a man is merely the victim of a syllogism. The 
whole case of those old-fashioned despotic princes in 
Eastern Europe against reform of the state, is nothing 
but a spasm of logic ' From a constitution there can 
only flow confusion and general ruin. Severe meMiirea 



98 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



against all the partisans of a constitntion are but a 
duty we owe to society at large. It is but choosing 
the less of two evils.' And so they co on as long as 
they can, sternly faithful to a painful logic; till some 
day — owing perhaps to some external and unforeseen 
accident — they find themselves nowhere. In ^ aU 
these cases, there might be—probably was, or is — 
great error in the premises. But, unluckily, the 
premises are always what is least carefully looked to 
m these arguments. Anyhow, the premises being 
accepted, the logical process following was irresistible. 
The poor monarch felt bound in reason, if not in con- 
science, to protect lus people from the consequences 
of false political principles. In his subsequent crown- 
loss wanderings, he must have some rather bewildered 
feelings occasionally about the eternal fitness of 
thinjgs. 

That very naughty error, which we see so con- 
tinually operating among the adherents of other 
faiths tluui our own, the doing or permitting of a 
small evil for tiie sake of a greater good, is wholly 
traceable to lo^c The g^tlemen suuty of it see the 
evil as the mmor proposition, and the choice to a 
syllogistic intellect becomes irresistiblo. It is on this 
yeiy principle that the persecutor proceeds when he 
commits a cruelty on one or a few persons, in order to 
prevent worse calamities to a greater number. The 
Benthamian doctrine of the Greatest Happiness of the 
Greatest Number has the same basia Honest Jeremy 
calculated that it oould not be followed out with- 
out injury and suffering to some ; but, then, the 
balance of advantage to the Multitude! He felt, 
indeed, that there was something not quite com- 
mendable in this givins up of even the Few to a harsh 
fate; but he connived to hush all misgivings in a 
confused belief that they were ultimately to be bene- 
fited also. It would have been better to commend 
them to the consolation which Mr Emerson points 
out in his late work on the Conduct of Life, * When 
a man is the victim of his fate, has sciatica in his 
loins and cramp in his mind; a club-foot and a club 
in his wit ; a sour face and a selfish temper ; a strut 
in his gait and a conceit in his affection; or is ground 
to powder by the vice of his race ; he is to rally on his 
relation to the universe, which his ruiu benefits.' 

Now and then, a man reputed wise or clever comes 
out with some strangely absurd action or demons- 
tration, that belies his character, and astounds his 
friends. Nobody professes to be able to understand 
it. Some charitaUy surmise softening of the brain. 
Others profess to suspect a profound policy for some 
ultimate object. But, on tne whole, mystery pre- 
vails. Now, there is generally a very simple expla- 
nation to such marveu. The man is merely acting 
under stress of syllogism. Certain data have pressS 
themselves on his attention ; a peculiar line of duty 
is presented to him. There is some greater evil to he 
avoided, or some greater good to be attained. Always 
there is some bsJance s&uck, the major proposition 
of course carrying the day. Possibly, the data or 
premises involve some fallacy ; but that is the ordi- 
nary case. The misfortune is in the logic, and the 
sensibility to its requirements. Had the man been 
a dull worker in the gin-horse course of society, 
he would have been Bale, Being able to make a 
deduction, he Mis. 

Is not loffic, then, a good thing? Would men be 
in general better without it? Or, if good, how arc 
they to use it safely? It is a good wing, because 
it is a means of arriving at truth, and men ought, of 
course, to continue using it ; but they ought to use it 
with understanding. The mischiefs m question have 
all of them a source apart from logic ; it lies, as I 
have said, in the premises. Men assume something as 
granted to be right and sound, and draw deductions 
from that, whereas it is perhaps not right and sound ; 
hence their reasonings can only lead wem into error. 
Or they assume that certain things will necessarily 



produce good effects, when, perhaps, they are only 
calculated to result in mischiel. Let them look weD 
to their data, and they will seldom come to wrom 
conclusions. This, you will say, is difficult : it k 
But if there be a want of light here, another punk 
may perhaps be found. We may always be peneet^ 
certain, that if any conclusion involves conduct or 
even suppositions that go against an^ of the groit 
behests of our moral nature — if they mvolve ciueUy 
or any other sort of injustice towards our fellow* 
creatures — if they propose our acting towards otheB 
in any manner in which we ourselves should not lib 
to be treated — they arc wrong from the basis, 9ai 
should be rejected. Even if tiiey only dictate a '^ 



of conduct involving some pointed departure from tki I 
ordinary courses oi society, we may well hesitate to 
adopt them, as there is always a presumption tint 
the Mass is wiser than the Unit. 



THE FAMILY SCAPEGRACE. 

CIIAPTXa XIII.— X0H8IBDB OS C&ESPIGNT. 

The day after Dick's visit to Acacia House was <m 
of great anxiety to him ; partly on account o£ ths 
expected letter from Miss ^Backboard, denouncing Ui 
conduct towards the terrestrial globe, and partfy hj 
reason of the singular secret he nad discovered cofr 
ceming Coimt (^tsuchakoff, which he did not knov 
whether he ought to disclose to his friend M. ds 
Crespigny or not. He spoiled several excellent he&k 
of hair that morning with his indecisive hands, mi. 
in one instance, clipped some portion of a genttfr- 
man's ear off, with no better excuse for the misadveft- 
ture than that his hair and his skin were really n 
very much of the same colour, that he couldn't td 
which was which ; a remark which did not by tgj 
means reconcile the Fresh-complexioned to hia nte. 

In the afternoon, the foreign gentlemen bean to 
arrive in their saloon in unusual numbers, and IHoik^ 
attendance was required there for the handing of j 
coffee, which it was not their custom to take excc{i 
when a long sitting was anticipated. There was Ym | 
little speechifying, and what there was, was carried ot . 
in suboned tones, but there was a considerable displsy | 
of documents with figures on them, which the youth per 
ceived were not sta&ments of accounts, but statimi 
of armed men. There was to be a rising some^^ion^ 
and that upon a very extensive scale, and Hcrr Sinful 
brow was weightier with purpose than usual, and ths 
fire in Signor Castigliano's eyes burned fierce flud 
luridly. M. de Crespigny carried on a brisk cofR- 
spondence with Count Gotsuchakoff, and a soon cC 
times the Russian bent forward and held the slip of 
paper in iiie gas-flame imtil it was completely eon* 
sumed. So deeply interested, indeed, were the wfaols 
company in the business on hand that afternoon, thlt 
even the presence of Dick was regarded witii aone 
little impatience, and the sjicakers would drop their 
voices and linger on their words, if he entered Ike 
room even for a moment, like men who havo that to 
say which concerns no interloper. 

Imagine, therefore, the universal confusion whsB 
Dick suddenly burst their door open with a tremen- 
dous bang, and rushed into the saloon punni ed 
by the furious barber. Half-a-dozen, at least, started 
to their feet, and placed their hands in their breast- 
pockets, as though to draw forth some hidden 
weapon ; two made for the door, and fastened it; 
one threw up the window, as though about to 
trust himself to the chance of a twenty-foot &D; 
while Count Gk>tsuchakoff, with naked dagger, efcn 
flew at the trembling lad as he embraced the knees of 
M. de Crespigny. That gentleman, however, inter 
posed his arm with a gesture the Russian could not 
pretend to misinterpret; and rolling up, map-like^ 
the document which lay before him witn particulir 



ii 



OHAMBBRS'S JOURNAL. 



99 



ess and delibfsratioD, reqaested Mr Tipsaway 
in the oompany to wliat fortunate circnmstanoe 
re indebted for the honour of his unexpected 

ipsaway shook his fist at his apprentice Tsry 
md with lipe as pallid with fear as they had 

moment oef ore with annr, expressed his 
an for the intrusion; the roreign gents must 
lardon him, he was sure, when he told them 
had just received wozd that one of his best 
in, Miss Backboard, of AiMieia House — well 
to the first families — had withdrawn her 
ge, on account of the infamous conduct of the 
reprobate now before them; his ri^teous 
bion had led him to chastise the youtii with a 
atched hastily from among those on sale in his 
op, and the ungrateful boy, instead of kissing 
, had had the temerity, in escaping from it, to 
the present company. 

7e the room, sir,^ exclaimed M. de Crespigny 
; 'we have nothinjg to do with your Made- 
t Backboards, and tne rest of it.' 
ird clung to his protector's knees appealingly. 

boy may stay, added the Frencnman; 'ne 
mds nothing of what we say.' 
! were sevml murmurs from those present, 
Russian wrote a few words rapidly down, and 
the slip to M. de Crespigny. 
:e the poor boy,' replied he, *and beg this 
3f you tor him for my sake.' To Ghytsucha- 
wrote : * Fear not ; I will answer for the boy 

business of the day was therefore resumed, and 
ilent at the feet of De Crespigny, the astonished 
i found himself in possession of the details of a 
d insurrection, the importance of which was 
ev«n to his tminstructea mind. The sitting did 
ak up till a late hour. M. de Crespigny had 
3ehind the rest, to beg off his young favourite 
s impending punishment, and was about to 
.e room for m&t puinpose, when Dick suddenly 
he door, and threw himself on his knees, 
sak your language, M. do Crei^eny, and have 
ray word, or nearly so, of what nas been said 
i. 

lappy boy,' exclaimed the count, seizing his 
h a grasp of iron ; * you know not what you 
>ne, nor what penalty you have incurred. I 
1,* hissed he bct^'ecn his teeth, and with an 
benmess in his usually mild eyes — ' I tell you 
'e spoken your own death-doom ! ' ' 
kve heard you many times before,' returned 
. quiet imterrified tones, 'and I have never 
ed of aught that has been said to anybody. 
kve been kind to mc, sir, and I would not 
irour friends for a kingdom.' 
, boy, I do believe you ; but this matter does 
wnh me ; does not affect mc only, but thou- 
I tell you, since you have heard so much, 
it needs die ! ' 

U determined, grim as severest Fate, and yet 
melancholy in his features bom of pity and 
ess, De Crespigny drew the boy from his 
iad held him at arm's length. 
. you eo quietly with me, and be judged bv 
nexorable, incredulous men, or shall 1 stab 
re ? O lies, how bitter is your fruit ! O 
y, how fatal is the pass to which thou hast 
< this child ! Fool, fool ! why not at least have 
.thine o^'n deceit without making me partaker 
What besotted vanity could have consumed 

ir, it was no foolish vanity, but gratitude. I 
ed my knowled^ only for your ^od, for your 
md for that of tnose you love. I tell you of 
only to warn you against another far more 
(US than I. There is one who hears all your 
m do not dream of.' 



* Who, boy ?— who ?' cried De Crespigny in a hoarse 
whisper. * Has this barber dared to tujm traitor? Are 
there spies without ?' 

' No, sir ; there are spies within. Count Gotsuch- 

akoff ' The boy involuntarily stopped, so awful 

was the expression of the Frenchman's face as Dick 
pronounced this name ; it seemed to become sea-green 
with rage and hatred. *■ Beware what you say, dov,' 
munnurcd he with difficulty, so choked was his voice 
with passion — 'beware: your wends are bullets — 
daggers. What of the Russian? What of the deaf 
andaumb ? ' 

*Hc is neither deaf nor dumb,' returned Richard 
solemnly ; ' I heard him speak not forhr-eight hours 
ago. He never bums those slips on which you write ! ' 

' You lie, you lie, boy ; I have seen Hini bum them 
with my own eyes !' 

' Not so, sir ; he bums other slips instead. I saw 
him do so thrice this very fevemne. He keeps the 
real ones in his pocket-book. If ne were searched 
this moment, you would find them there.' 

* Great Heaven ! can this be tne ? ' exclaimed De 
Crespigny. * The nlace, the very hour, he holds in 
our handwriting ; the money and arms he knows, to a 
franc, a musket. The men — Heaven, and the 
women, the poor helpless women that this monster 
has the power to make desolate. Give me the brandy, 
boy. I can't believe it. For thirty years, a spy and 
playing mute — for thirty years! zet some such 
wreteh we must have had amongst us. So many 
plans betrayed, so many schemes abortive ! Once 
more, good youth, upon your sacred soiU, is this the 
truth? Answer as you would answer at the judgment- 
seat, did this man speak ? ' 

' He did ; so help me Heaven ! ' 

M. de Crespigny filled another dass with brandy, 
and tossed it off ; then put his doak on with deliber- 
ation, and passed out of the roouL The front-shop 
was tenanttess, but he delayed there to adl the 
barber, and extract from him, not without difficulty, 
a promise that his apprentice should not be beaten. 
Then parting, with a polite good-night, and even an 
uncommon gaiety, the Frenchman len; the house. 

The next day (Thursday), and the day after that, 
the foreim gentlemen frequented Mr lipsawaVs as 
usual, wiUi one single exception, and the confusion of 
tongues in the smoking-saloon was as great as ever. 
On the third day, the barber inquired of Herr Singler 
what had become of Count Gotsuchakoff, to which 
the German answered that he did not know, and that 
his friends were getting exceedingly anxious about 
him. That same evening, as Mr Tipsaway was pick- 
ing out the plums of me Dispatch newspaper, and 
distributing them, as his custom was, on Saturday 
nights, to we household in general, he came upon this 
remarkable paragraph : 

' Mysterious murder, — Last night, as the polioeman 
on duty was passing down Blank Street, Poplar — a 
rather unfrequented part of that neighbourhood— he 
perceived some person crouching down behind a hoard- 
mg, as if for the purpose of concealment. Upon tuminc 
his bull's eye upon this object, he found it to be a deaa 
body, and by the dress and complexion, apparently 
that of a foreigner. Being carried to the police station, 
and examined, there was found a small wound in the 
left breast, as if made with a stiletto or other shaip 
and narrow instrument, which it is the surgeons 
opinion could not have been inflicted by the deceased 
himself. A valuable watch and some money were 
found upon his person, as well as a pocket-book with 
various entries in it in the Russian tongue. The body 
had the appearance of having lain in the position in 
which it was found for several days. At present, the 
affair is enveloped in mystery, but the police are 
actively engaged in ite elucidation.' 

* Upon my word of honour,' exclaimed Mr Tipsaway, 
slappmg his thigh, ' I'm half inclined to believe that 

I that must be our poor old dummy. At all evflBii^ 



100 



CHAMBERS^S JOURNAL. 



I 'U go to Poplar this very night, and set my mind 
at ease. Frizzle — no, you 're a fool, and will be all 
ni^t about it— Smith, you run out, and get me a 
cab this instant. Smith, dtm't vou hear ? Why, what 
the deuce is the matter ^Hth the boy? — he 's all of a 
quiver.' 

' I don't wonder at it,' interposed Mrs Tipsaway : 
* the heat of this room is something quite insupport- 
able. If you will just leave him to himself, wmle I 
open the window, he '11 be right in half a minute, and 
by the time vou have put on your boots.' 

* Smith, what do you know about this ? ' whispered 
the woman vehemently, as soon as they were left 
alone. * There has been some foul-pla^ with this 
Russian, boy, and you know something of it. I heard 
you talidng to De Crespigny on Wc^esday night ; 
ay, that I did. I tola you what would come of 
trying to deceive Martha Tipsaway. I may save you, 
even yet, you wretched boy,' continued the barber's 
wife, with a vagueness of patronage that curiosity, 
however powerful, could scarcely excuse ; * only tell 
me all you know, from beginning to ' 

' Will you get me that cab. Smith, or will you 
not?' roared Mr Tipsaway, reappearing with his 
great-coat and comforter. * What is the meaning of 
this conduct, sir ? Why are you always fainting, and 
my wife always engaged in loosening your necker- 
chief?' 

Dick snatched up his cap, and rushed into the street 
without one word of reply. 

The clock hands in the front-shop were then 
together at the eleventh hour, and Mr Tipsaway 
calculated that before that hour struck his vehicle 
would have arriveiL 

* I believe that that is the stunidest boy we ever 
had,' exclaimed the barber peevisnly, at the expira- 
tion of the first ten minutes. 

'I don*t agree with you,' replied his lady curtly, 
not lifting her eyes from the Hausekeepet's Be$t 
Adviser f of which recondite volume, however, she 
had not mastered a single sentence : ' you might 
thank your stars if you were only one-half as sharp, 
Mr T.' 

* Sharp or not,' observed Mr Tipsaway, maddened 
by delay — * sharp or not, I '11 give nim such a supper 
of black- thorn before he goes to bed this night as he 
will find rather indigestible, as sure as ' 

' As sure as you are a wise man, Mr T.,' interrupted 
his consort, * there ; you couldn't finish your sentence 
better than that. And not beins a yrae man, why, 
you won't give it himj simply oecause the lad is 
never coming back again to give you a chance.' 

* Never coming back a^ain ! ' echoed Mr Tipsaway, 
sinking into an arm-chair as though overwheuued by 
this intelligence ; * why, he 's got two tortoise-shell 
combs in his pocket almost new. I 've owed that boy 
a tanning these five weeks — one day or another — and 
put it off, and put it off, and put it off, through good 
nature, and because I thought it best to pay him 

for all at once, and now lor, if I Wl but 

known.' 

C H A P T E B XIV. 
THK XTSTBBT OF MH J y B !<. 

London by night ! What a brilliant and animated 
vision to those who, knowing nought of its guilt and 
wretchedness, are whirled ^m comfortable homes to 
gori^us thoatree, and mark the ceaseless throng from 
Iheir carriage windows as though it were itself but a 
scenic pageants What a world of gilded vice and gay 
excitement to those who seek it, purse in hand, and 
with heated faces carefully averted from its darker 
side ! • .What a wilderness of woe to those who, house- 
less and moneyless, pace wearily its splendid streets, 
without one of its million lights disclosmg to them the 
features of a friend ! For such, no loneliness of desert, 
no solitariness . of sailless sea, can make so utter an 



isolation as that infinite ocean of unknown fellow- 
creatures. The heart of London throbs indeed, as has 
been said, but to the poor wanderer in its stony waji 
in a manner far other than human. Among a thoosaod 
faces there is not one that says unto him, * I pity you;* 
not one, *■ What makes you look so wretched . and so 
wan ?' Pleasure is there — real pleasure — with bri^ 
eyes and radiant cheeks; and a hideous and unml 
Pleasure pursues him with eyes that are 8inrii-laiq9% 
with cheeks that are paintcHd skin. Wealth is then^ 
in profusion, in superfluity, made hideous bv oontsast 
witn the abject Poverty that stoops to pick the orange- 
peel from the kennel Prudence is there, witli msay 
a cardinal \'irtue, all with suspicious looks and bat- 
toned pockets, and putting their confidence in Order 
only, who is there also, Uue-coated, and with tnu- 
cheon in himd. But as for Human Sympathy, for any 
sij^ of Common Brotherhood to be encountered in six 
uules of human countenances in Loudon by night — 
you must apply to the relieving-officer of the district, 
who undertakes the supply of those articles; and 
mind, wanderer, that it is his district, and that you 
do not ])ut off the application until after business 
hours! 

Poor Dick ran on and on for several minutes, only 
intent upon settinc as many streets as posuble 
between tdmself and the too inquiring Mrs Tipsaway, 
and accompanied the whole of that distance by the 
imace of Coimt Gotsuchakoff, as he was found behmd 
the hoarding in Poplar with the stiletto- wound in hii 
left breast. Something had prompted the boy to avoid 
M. de Crespigny, ever since that Wednesday nidit 
when he had revealed to him the treachery ofni 
associate, and now he felt a sort of comfort in that hs 
had done so : it was something that he had not toaifihed 

that hand, which Dick did not dare to finish the 

thought, but sped on the faster upon his way, as thoq^ 
to leave it and the phantasm which dogged his noe 
behind him. The further ho ran, however, the men 
perceptible and hideous it grew, and it was not till 
he had entered one of those temples dedicated to the 
grosser Bacchus, and drank off a glass of gin, that he 
found out how largely ei^ustion and weariness enter 
into the composition of the impalpable. One bad 
spirit, in fact, drove out the other ; but the new azrival 
was only too familiar with poor Dick by this time, 
and agreed with him perfectly welL 

Kerreshed and strengthened, at least temporarily, 
the lad inquired of a poUceman where he was, and 
receiving the requisite mtelligence, accompanied with 
a gruff advioe to take himself home, avaued hwn^f , 
so far as he was able, of that recommendatioii. He 
retraced his steps through the now fast emptyiag 
streets — for he had been hitherto running due. east 
— towards Golden S(][uare, a place he had not visited 
since his emancipation from china, many immthf 
ago, and standing in the silent roadway then, 
contemplated his former home. No sucdi feelingi 
tlirongei his bosom as are said to affect yomg 
gentlemen of property ui)on revisiting the pateraiS 
residences from which tney have been absent for 
a long vacation or so. There was no old and 
favourite dog to treat him with indifference as a 
stranger, or—still more objectionably — ^to tear him 
where he stood. Neither coidd he have been com- 
pared to some prodigal about to piteously appeal for 
any husks that might chance to be going in his uncle's 
establishment, for he had no intention of humbling 
himself before that relative. Still, as it was almost 
the only house in mighty London which contained 
any weU- wisher of his, ne did look up at it, and parti- 
cularly at Mrs Trimming's window, with an interest 
that, at least, he did not entertain for the next door. 
It was a beautiful starlit night, and he perceived 
that the housekeeper's blind was down, and the gas- 
light in her chamber extinguished ; the good old lady 
was evidently gone to bed— respectable white-sheeted 
bed, about which no dreams of houseless wanderersi 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



101 



with their last twopence spent in gin, were likely 
to mingle. If he threw tip a pebble, it would prob- 
ably omy break the glass, and not her dumber, for 
Mrs Trimming was tl^t sort of lady who appreciates 
her supper and sleeps sound. 

Husn! who is that who softly opens the next 
window, ^w window— for Unde Ingram and Adolphus 
both sleep on the other side of the house — and 
gases forth upon the sleeping city and the quiet 
rtara? Their neavenly light slides down u^n her 
golden hair, as though it had been watcmng for 
some such resting-place, and bathes in those tremu- 
lous eyes wherein stands the dew. It is Dick's angel 
watching over him, although she knows it not, 
and suggesting what is right by her mere presence. 
He wm not become a vagabond — ^thinks he — ^but 
for the sweet sake of her will ask shelter, even 
at such an hour as that, of Mr Mickleham. Her 
face is leaning on her fair round arms, and she 
is thinking — perhaps of Dick himself. Why has 
he never written to her, according to his promise? 
Why has he not written to his mother? Sister 
Maggie is in her dinner-dress, and it is not a black 
one. Thank God for that ; at least, then, his mother 
lives. But why are they two in London ? — for he well 
knows that Maggie and she are not apart — why in 
Golden Square among his enemies ? He longs to know 
all this ; and by a whisper of his sister's name, a 
motion of his hands, a stepping out into the full light 
from underneath the shadow of the railings, he might 
hove known it alL But, alas ! the black sheep has nis 
nride, his obstinacy, his egotism, as the white sheep 
has; and Rascality can stand upon its own dignity 
as ndioalously (if it were not for the pity of n) as 
Respectability itself. 

As Hwas, Maggie even saw him crouching there 
— some abject wretch lashed by the bitter night- wind, 
as she deemed — and disappearing for an instant, she 
came forth again and stretcning out her beautiful white 
arm and neck, cast out a shimmering something 
wMch olanged upon the stones close oy him, and 
then the casement closed, and she retired — her last 
good deed for that day being done. Dick took the 
nalf-crown, and kissihg it, put it away in the same 
pocket that held lus other treasures — the lock of 
nair and handwriting of Miss Mickleham — and creep- 
ing o£f abashed, fled westward towards the homo of 
the old derk. 

The population to which the policemen had before 
seemed to bear such insignificant prox^^^^^^^ were 
now, in their turn, outnumbered by the guard- 
ians ci the ni|^t, whose sauntering and heavy tread 
oould be distinguished on the pavement— so still 
the nif^ had grown — from the drunken stagger of 
the wvidler, and the slithering footstep of the 
wretchsd women who still haunted the comers of the 
streets - AH sounds were mMpified and repeated b^ 
the aoeonoiiodating echoes, n an oath broke forth, it 
edified eam far distant from those to which it was 
moially addressed ; and if a laugh, it pierced with its 
snrill mockery unwiUing hearers half a street away. 
Diek heard two verses of a bacchanalian song sung 
out before he met the solitary singer, who was walk- 
ing quickly, too, as though he thought half-past one 
wae time to be at home, if not in bed. 

*We can't eat any more, 

We can't eat any more. 

We can't eat any mo-o-OTt 

But vt ^U have some more to drink. 

We won't go home till morning, 
We won't go home till morning. 
We won't go home till mor — ning, 
And perhaps not even thtii^ 

Dick uttered a cry of delight as the roysterer 
IMSed him, for it was no other thap Mr Jones. That 
gentleinan, on his part, was not less surprised at the 



rencontre, although when he was put in possession 
of the young gentleman's forlorn condition (without, 
however, the particulars of it, and least of aU, with the 
immediate cause of Dick's departure from the barber^s), 
he was certainly lees delighted. 

*Well, you must come home with me of course 
for to-night, Dick; but you must not expect a 
palace, my good sir. We are spacious when we 
do get there, but we are a precious long wav up. If 
our apartments give you the idea of havmg been 
taken unfurnished, you must not be surprised, 
Master Richard. We have preferred to wait for 
the very best things that can be got, rather than 
to be supplied at once by upholstering mediocrity.' 
While the young man, wrapped in his loose cloak, 
thus discoursed sardonically concerning the lodgings 
whither th^ were boimd, Dick felt, in spite ofnim- 
self, a shudder creeping over him, as he recognised in 
the speaker an unmistakable likeness to the popular 
representations of no other than the Enemy of Man- 
kind. Alas ! there was no doubt about it ; there 
were the high shoulders, the mocking eyes, the demo- 
niacal smile that had haunted many a dream of his, 
and, for all he could see to the contrary, the elongated 
ears might be touching the roof of that hat, and the 
tail be wound like a rope around that body. It 
seemed only of a piece with Mr Jones's Satanic cha- 
racter, that he should appear pleased with the impres- 
sion that he had evidently produced upon his jjroung 
friend, and should give expression to a prokm^^ 
* Ha ! ha ! ' (of a demoniac character), which, beginning 
at the top of the Hiwmarket, seemed to die away in 
the neighbourhood of Apsley House. 

* Tou seem tired and out of spirits, my poor Dick,' 
observed Mr Jones, unlocking a street door; *but 
wc are at home at last If Queen Lnddora has 
not retired to her imx>erial couch, we will make her 
give us supper.' 

Up ana still up they toiled, until they came 
to tne fourth story, which was composed of one 
enormous chamber, lit by a sky-lijB;ht, and other- 
wise rather overprovidea with windows, and of 
another very smaH apartment without any window 
at alL They entered the former without knocking, 
and a rather pretty young woman, who had been 
sitting by the fire, came fom'ard with a yawn to 
welcome Mr Jones. Thoudi she was not so very pretty, 
nor he, as has been saio, so divinely beautiful, yet 
Dick, who gazed upon them imobserved by the lady, 
was instantaneously reminded, by thieir embrace, of the 
meeting of Cupid and Psyche. The latter, it is true, 
was in a yellow dressing-gown, and without her 
wreath and wings, and the former wore his hat more 
upon one side uian became a deity of such a reputa- 
tion as the god of Love — but there they were, never- 
theless, as Dick had seen them pictured scores of 
times. 

* Lucidora, I have brought a young gentleman, who 
wants some supper. ^& Richard Arbour, let me 
introduce you to Mrs Jones.' 

The start which that yoimg lady gave at this 
announcement, before she bounded into the little 
room to reassume her gown, wiped out the Psyche 
from Dick's retina, and presented in her stead Diana 
surprised at her ablutions by Acteon ; Mr Jones, 
too, only wanted the horns to l)e the counterpart of 
that ill-fated hunter. 

The lad sunk feebly into a chair, ^uite worn out by 
fatigue and want of food, and not without a suspicion 
that his wits were leaving him. 

' Here is beer, my lad, and here is bread and cheese,' 
cried his host, producing those articles from a cup- 
board: 'they will put a little life into you while 
supper is getting ready. These herrings are only 
waiting to be cooked ' 

* Those herrings are for to-morrow,'' observed Luci- 
dora, rea^ypearing from the inner room, in a some- 
what more decorated style of dress. 'How cotdd 



102 



GHAMBBRS'S JOURNAL. 



you bring the yoang gentleman here at this time in 
the morning?' 

* Wdl, I could have bronght him in a cab, if I had 
bad the money, but as it was, he brought himself, 
although with difficulty. He's tired to death, and 
must lodge here for the night at leasts' 

'Lodge where f^ inquir^ the young lady, with a 
not imperceptible toes of her raven ringlets. 

'Rebecca the Jewess, as I live,' thoujsht Dick, 
' when defying the Templar Brian de Bois Guilbert ! ' 

* In that comer yonder, and in Cleopatra's galley,' 
replied Mr Jones sonorously, pointing to a something 
b^ween a boat and a horse-hair sofa which stood at 
the extremity of the apartment. * Pillowed on the 
leopard-skin of Bacchus, and covered with Hamlet's 
cloak, and the robe of Cardinal Wolsey when a-dying, 
he will need not the bed of down, nor the mattress 
said to be of horse-hair, but which too conmionly is 
stuffed with wooL' 

*Now, don't go on so like a ranting play-actor,' 
returned Luddora peevishly ; * don't you see that you 
quite frighten the lad. I wish, young gentleman, we 
had sconething better to offer you than cheese.' 

* Give him rabbit, the rabbit of Wales,' observed Mr 
Jones with di^gnity. * I think I could even eat a piece 
of such an anmial myself.' 

* Toasted cheese, at two in the morning ! ' exclaimed 
the hostess ; ' why, you will both have the nightmare.' 

And in Dick's case that prophecy was certainly 
fnimiod to the letter. 

He woke up, in the galley, from a deadly combat 
with Mark Antony and the Prince of Darkness, to 
find his host and hostess at breakfast, and that it 
was half -past ten o'clock on Sunday morning. 

So exhausted was he even after that long rest, that 
he did not feel equal to conversation, but lay upon 
h» extempore bed with half-shut eyes, taking lascy 
note of the apartment and its contents. The quantity 
of Uiy^t in the room, intercepted only at the side- 
win£w8 by half-a-dozen very tall chixnneys, together 
with the vast expanse of house-roofis seen from where 
he lay, gave him the notion of being in a gjlass-box 
placed upon the very top of London, and that it was 
lucky he had his clothes on, for that getting out of 
bed would have otherwise been a public iminropriety. 
There was a machine like an enormous magic lantern 
immediately opposite to him, from which depended 
a vast black curtain. The carpetless floor was 
strewed with theatrical dresses of all descriptions, 
and several roughly coloured scenes, as for a dramatic 
representation, were leaning against the walls. The 
chair upon which he had thrown his coat overnight 
he now perceived to be three wooden steps paintedto 
represent the base of a statue ; and Mr Jones hims^ 
was seated not upon a chair but upon a priestess's 
tripod. Nothing that he saw, in fact, appeared to 
be real or natural except the herrings, and those 
were disappearing from the scene with pantomimic 
velocity. 

'I say, just you leave one for the boy,' remarked 
Lacidora, as Mr Jones evinced a disposition to attack 
the final fish. * Since you mean him to stay here, you 
mustjzive him enough to eat, although it 's my belief 
he will never pay for his keep.' 

* Mrs T.,' responded the other — and * Why does he 
call her Mrs T., I wonder?' thought the attentive 
Dick — * you Women know nothmg whatever of 
business, except its mere decorations — its accessories ; 
you understand the flying buttresses and the capitals 
well enough, but the wiSls uid the pillars must be 
left to the great anhitect Man. What did Sunstroke 
give you per head for fairies when you were Titania?' 

* Just five shiUinss, and out of that I had to find 
the eauze and span^es.' 

* Which we used afterwards, once or twice, upon 
other occasions,' remarked the other drilv. ' Well, if 
mere supers fetch a crown apiece, what do you 
think of Ganymede being carried off by the Eagle ? 



There 's a bird-stuffer in Hdbom who wiU land ins 
one for two-^nd-six, which will be just the tlmi^ 
What do you think of Hyacinth with a Dutch, dumb 
in his hand playing at the Discus with ApdUo, eh? 
That young fellow would look uncommonly well i^mb 
a By the by,' cried Mr Jones, interrupting him- 
self, and turning a little pale, * it is just withm tbe 
bounds of posaibilily that he ma^ not be a ziove% is 
the market after alL Sunstroke is always on the look- 
out, I know. — Dick, my boy ; Dick, I say, are yon 
awake? We want to know whether yoa have enr 
been on a slide.' 

* On a slide ? ' ejaculated the boy, sittisff up in tia 
galley and rubbing his eyes. ' O yes, I nave bees 
on a slide many scores of times.' 

* 7^ deuce you have,' replied Mr Jones in a tons d 
disappointment ; ' and yet you haven't been in towat 
twelvemonth, eh ? There you see, Luddora, didn't I 
tell you how they would jump at such a model « 
that?' 

* I have never been on a slide in town,' replied IHok 
with simplicity ; * only in winter-time, at McflB 
Dot and Uarriwun's, there was a pond ' 

At this explanation, Lucidora went off into a 
convulsion of laughter, and performed an act d 
hysterical applause with her feet ; Mr Jones, forget- 
ting he was ona triood, and not on a chair with a hick 
to it, fell backwards in a fit of frantic delist, aid 
brought his head into sharp contact with the flooi; 
while Dick threw off the tiger-skin railway-rug wd 
the red and black cloaks which served for bm rlnthm, 
and joined in the contagious laugh which he h^Mlf 
had raised. He was about to perform his tfwWt 
which consisted simply of putting on his coat — whn 
Mr Jones pointed to an enormous and hidbly ons* 
mental metal basin, and made si^ps — ^bemg at yet 
choked with merriment — that he misht, if he had a 
wish that way, therein wash his face and handL 
Thankfully availing himself of this permission, theyoalh 
was about to plunge his ruddy countenance into^ 
water for the second time, when he was arreted hw a 
cry of admiration from his host. ' One moment, Dflk 
— ^just stop as you are one moment Look at him, 
Lucidora — do just lo<^ at him before he leepe iolo 
the flood. Don't you remember the young nfminiMil 
party who, having once beheld himself in tiie lifod 
element, could never afterwards be peraoieded to 
admire anvbodv else ? He 's Narcissus to tin rarj 
life, is Dick, and a couple of guineas out of Sunaitnke^s 
pocket, if he is a shulins. That 'U do, Dick : g» it 
again, and never mind us. 

Dick did * go it' again, as directed, but not altofflftsr 
without * minding' It was a considerable triaflora 
youth of his OK^est disposition to be stopped in bis 
ablutions, and have the attention of a strange kdy 
drawn to hie shut eyes and dripping features. 

' When vou 're washed, Dick, and had your hmk- 
fast, and if you have nothing else particular to dflb I 
want you to put on a dress that will admiralty baeoMS 
you, and to pennit me to take your picture wHli that 
machine yonder.' 

* And what, in the name of wonder, is it?' enad 
Dick in an agony of curiosity; ' and how is it thi* I 
seem to have seen you and Mrs Jones m, ao mmf 
other places and doing so many things. It's fieiy 
foolish, I know, but somehow or other it strikes me 
that I was at ^our wedding.' 

Upon this, Dick's host and hostess had another aooeai 
of delirious joy, lasting several minutes, after which 
the former took down a couple of stereosoomc slidei^ 
and handed them to his young friend. 'Vou have 
not only seen our wedding, DicK — at least in many a 
shop-window — ^but the cEnstening of our first and 
only babv. Where 'a the babjr, Lucidora ? Why, the 
poor child is actuaUv standmg on its head in tiie 
waste-basket ! I perrorm^ the ceremony myself in 
full canonicals, wnich Shadraoh would not let sa 
have, by the by, under three-and-six. We abo do all 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



103 






the ciaasical pose8 plasUquet for Mr Sunstroke. Nay, 
I have done— and a rezy difficult job it was— the 
▼eiy Fiend himself, as you may have seen.' 

'In short,' said Dick, at a loss what name to give 
to this unexampled calUnA, ' you are ' 

' Fhotograpliee«,' r^pliea ^ Jones, pulling up his 
shirt-collar — * yes, and we flatter ourselves at the nead 
of the profession. We are models for a stereoscopic 
photographer, and you shall join us, and become a 
model too.' 



DEVIL'S DUST. 

LooKivo at a map of the West Biding, we finda town 
named Batley, situated in the midst of, and about 
equidistant from the five great towns of Leeds, Brad- 
fxad^ Halifax, Wakefield, and Hnddersfield ; it is the 
cenize of a district comprising a group of villages. 
rapidly growing into towns, in which the thing caUea 
'oevils dust' is chiefly made. Dewsbury would 
peihaps be afi&ontcd at being named second to Batley 
in importance; but those who know best, say that 
DewBDurv may claim precedence for bl^kets, but 
not for oust. Throughout these villages, the atmo- 
sphere is bad for the lungm and the pervading odour, if 
not exactly *a very ancient and nsh-like smell,' is 
certainly ancient and old-dothes like. This is the 
extract of Shoddy and of Mungo, Let etymologists 
settle the origin of these names, if they can; the 
fobstances themselves are of unmistakable reality. 
Shoddy is a mass of woolly particles, obtained by 
tearing or * deviling' vip old wonted stockings* 
blankets, rugs, and carpets ; while mun^o is a simi&r 
but somewhat better material, obtained by tearing up 
old woollen garments and tailors' cuttings. The coat 
of Locd Peerless, the livery of Jeames tibe footman, 
the buttoned jadcet of Alphonse the page, the carpet 
of his lady's drawing-room, the worsted stockings of 
John the jgardeuer— iQl, when fitted for nothing dse, 
are consigned to the BaUey district, where they 
aoquire a new lease of existence, and claim a place 
anaag the useful thin^ available to us. And let us 
not assume that this is a trifliing matter; for if Mr 
Jnbb of Batley, who has recently written a pamphlet 
oa this matter, is right in his statistics, there are no 
less than fifhr million pounds of woollen rags now 
annually worked up in this way in Yorkshire, prodn- 
oms nearly forfy million pounds of munso and shoddy, 
of ue value of eight hundred thousand pounds ster- 
liij^ As the raw material does not cost half of this, 
W6 mav perhaps safely say that the * devil's dust' 
brii:^ half a million annually to Yorkshire in wages 
and profit. 

It was about half a century ago that Yorkshiremen 
began to conceive the idea of dootoring up old 
woollen rags, and using them with new wool lor the 
manufacture of doth. Or the idea may have been 
formed earlier, but not realised until then. A rag- 
flifll was set up at Batley, to tear the material into 
frsgments ; ta&x one at Brighouse, and so on. A 
machine had long been empk>yed in the metropolis 
Iqr tearimg up woollen ra^ into flocks for saddlery 
and upho&teiy purposes; out the rag-wod for the 
wooUen manufacture requires to be more completdy 
disentangled; it is not merdy torn; it is almost 
^nmnd. The prindpal part of the rag- wool machine 
IS the sio^ a frame provided with ten or twdve 
thousand vidous-looking teeth, and that rotates six 
or seven hundred times a minute. What would bo 
the fate of Jeames's coat, or Alphonse's jacket, when 
exposed to the action of such a monster, the reader 
m^ reiadily imagine. One machine will produce four 
or five packs of shoddy in a day, with two or three 
bundled pounds in each pack; and then it is that 
the Vi>^iiig up the dust takes place— for, endose 
the machine how wo may, the fibrous particles wiU 
fly about, and be both dirty and bad-smelliujr. 

1^5lpt our own home-supply of wooUon and worsted 



rags, there is much comes from abroad — not only as 
rags proper, but also as rag-wool, or shoddy and munffo 

Srepared from the rags in Gennany and Denmark. It 
oes not api>car that rag- wool is to any great extent 
worked up into doth on the continent; rag-mills, 
however, have been set up there ; and the shoddy and 
mungo, when so far prepared, are shipped off to 
Hull — the great entrepOt for this, as for so many other 
articles us^ by Yorksnire manufacturers. From Hull 
the packs find their way to BaUey and Dewsbuiy, 
where they are sold by auction in a very primitive 
way, and amid much more dirt and disconuort than 
would be endured in the general or new wool trade. 
Indeed, Batley has not yet had time to clean itself ; 
nor is it certam that shoddy would allow much oppor- 
tunity for that virtue which is ranked next to go(Ui- 
ness. The rags, shoddy, and mungo pass into the 
hands of dealers or middlemen, who sort and classify, 
and sell them to the manufacturers of the neighbour- 
hood. Nay, this trade has even been further sub- 
divided; for there are now rag-dealers and shoddy- 
dealers; the latter selling their material to those 
manufacturers who use up shoddy without making it^ 
Rag-sorting has now become quite a skilful handicraft^ 
or rather eyeaxf/L All the qualities, all the coloun, 
are separated quickly and completely; so that the 
shoddy and mungo grmdcrs are supplied with upwards 
of twenty different sorts, applicable to an equal number 
of different purposes. *Soft rags,' from stockingSi 
blankets, and carpets, are used in the lax^t quanti^, 
and are mode into shoddy for mixing with new wool 
in the commonest kinds of wooUen goods; but ragp 
of good woollen doth, torn up into mungo, are 
graaually taking the lead in the market, owing to 
uieir applicability to a better class of manufactures. 
Such rags were, until about the year 1834, used only 
for flock or for manure ; but the shoddy-grinders of 
Batley, about that time, detennined to strike into a 
new path, and invented mungo from the remains of 
departed coats and trousers. Mr Jubb makes no 
attempt to enlighten us as to the meaning or origin of 
tiie word dhodo^; but concerning mungo^ he asKs us 
to believe this : that one of the dealers in the newly 
invented material wa# on a certain occasion endea- 
vouring to effect a sale to a manufacturer ; the latter 
expressed a doubt whether it would ' do,' or * tell,' or 
*go down' with the public; whereupon the dealer 
declared with emphasis that *it mun go;' that is, 
must, shall, inevitably will, go. 

There is also a third substance, known in tibie trade 
as extract^ employed in grinding up old gannents into 
new. It consists of the wodlen portion of such ' mixed * 
or ' union' goods as are composed of cotton- waip with 
woollen or worsted weft Sudi are now extrsmdy 
varied, and are becoming more and more commercially 
important every year. Men's dresses and women s 
dresses, apparently woven whoUy with woollen or 
worsted threads, contain cottou to an extent little 
dreamed of by those who wear them. Cotton is 
cheaper, and is more easily prepared and spun, than 
woof; and thus there is a great temptation to substi- 
tute cotton for some of the wod woven into doth or 
stuff-goods in Yorkshire. It is hard to believe that 
men would think it worth their while to pick out the 
tcoollen threads from such mixed goods as these, in 
order to use them again, but such seems to be really 
the case. The product is this extract The picking is 
not mechanical, but chemical ; for in fact tine cotton 
is dissolvwl or destroyed by chemical agency, leaving 
the wool intact. Worn-out carpets, worn-out dresses, 
cuttin^Ts of so-called merino, alpaca, and mohair — 
all are made to yidd * extract,' 2 there be any wool 
in their composition ; and this extract, when mixed 
with new wool, can be woven up into certain textile 
goods ; but not, it is said, so successfully as veritable 
shoddy and mungo. Shoddy looks down upon extract; 
mimgo looks down upon shoddy; new wool looks 
down ux)on mungo — and so the world goes round 



.^ 



I 



104 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



The reader may possibly have been Bi>eciilatmg on 
the question, whether shoddy or mun^o is ever made 
up into cloth without the intervention of any new 
wooL So far as we can gather, such is not the case. 
These substances have in part lost their fdting pro- 
perty — that peculiar tendency of wool fibres to entwine 
around and lock into each other, on which the thick- 
ness, closeness, and strength of woollen cloth so 
remarkably depend. The newly-made cloth would 
fall to pieces rather too soon, linless comforted and 
encouraged by a little new wooL How much this 
little shall be, is a question between the manufacturer 
and the dealer. Snail it be 80 per cent of shoddy, 
and 20 of wool ; or 20 of shoddy and 80 of wool ; or 
50 of each? It all depends upon the price. New 
wool is, of course, dearer than mungo or snoddy ; and 
if a tajlor makes up a coat of very cheap cloth, the 
wearer of the coat must not be shocked to learn that 
it comprises a large percentage of fibres which once 
belon^^ to another man*s coat — nay, to his own last 
yeai's coat, it may be. We might almost moralise on 
the metempsychosis of wool, the transfer of soul from 
one coat to another. Nothing, so long as it has sub- 
stantial existence, is really and permanently useless. 
The woollen rags, whether the organic remains of 
departed coats or gowns, blankets or carpets, stock- 
ings or comforters, Jbave all the seams and irregular 
portions carefully cut away from them, in order that 
the better pieces may with less interruption be torn 
and ground up into mungo and shoddy. But the odds 
and ends thus left are not wasted. Some are allowed 
to rot, and are then used as a valuable manure for 
hop-grounds ; some are made into flock, for bedding 
and sfcufi&ng ; and some are sold to the ihanuf acturing 
chemists, as a source whence prussiate of potash may 
be obtained. Shoddy dust, too — perhaps the real 
original 'devil's dust' — which is shaken out while the 
rags are being converted into mungo and shoddy, 
and then into clotii, is sold as manure. And when, 
as is sometimes the case, the shoddy dust of one 
colour can be kept separate from others, it is sold to 
paper-stainers, as a material for producing what are 
called flock paper-hangings. Paper-makers have been 
long wistfully looking at woollen rags, to see whether 
these could usefully supplement the more costly and 
somewhat scarce Imen rags ; but even if this should 
never be the case, we find that mungo, shoddy, 
extract, prussiate of potash, flock-stuffing, flock paper- 
hanfflngs, and hop-manure, all rise up to protest acamst 
wooUen rags being regarded as contemptible nothings. 

In the towns and villages already named, some of 
the mills are engaged in tearing up woollen rags into 
mungo and shoddy ; but the greater number are cloth- 
mills, in which rag- wool and new wool are spun and 
woven up together into cloth, or into carpets and 
druggets, or olankets and wrappers. As to these 
woven goods, their variety is legion, and their names 
are fanciful For instance, /tM^n^« are heavy, coarse, 
blue or drab goods, largely bought for her Majesty's 
navy, and for garments to be worn by workine-men ; 
druggets are mixed uuraised cloths, frequently plaided, 
more suitable by their coarseness as coverings for 
carpets than as a material for garments ; paddings 
are unraised piece-dyed cloths, mostly red and crim- 
son, used cmefly for stuffing and stiffening coat- 
coUars, and for making cheap table-covers; duffeU 
are stout, well-raised, and soft-finished cloth, often 
dyed drab, and warm and useful in wear ; friezes^ 
chiefly made for the Irish market — and sometimes 
for the English market as veritable genuine Iri^ 
friezes— are neavy, sound, and unraised goods, gener- 
ally dyed of certain colours, which are popuLir in 
Ireland, and which seem to be somewhat clannish in 
their localisation ; witney%, very varied in style and 
colour, and sometimes * marbled' and * clouded' in 
a fanciful way, are in favour for ladies' mantles and 
men's overcoats ; while mohairt and alpacas^ if really 
deserving those names, are goods commanding rather 



a high price, but that they can be and are made ia 
a manner with which mungo has something to do^ 
if 'made to sell,' like certain razors of sreat oelebfitf. 
Then, again, as to tvoeeds^ which are believed to be 
made in Scotland, and esteemed capital cloths fm 
summer-garments, we are told that the cheap ' tourisli^ 
suits' of the last summer or two have smelled nt- 
piciously of shoddy and mungo, and are to be traced 
t)ack no further north than Yorkshire. ChevioU, iao 
(it is a shame to rob Scotland in this way !), are nov 
hugely made in these shoddy districts— some pUided, 
some down-striped, some cross-striped, some magooal 
— for tourists' suits. Petershams we are to reoooiise 
as a cloth for overcoats, friezed or napped with nttb 
knobs or curls ; while strouds are poor bat shovj 
cloths, used chiefly by the Hudson's ^y Oompany ia 
barter with the Indians of the fur-coimtnea. aave^ 
or save-list, so named because the list or edgmg ■ 
preserved, is a poor blue or scarlet cloth, witowSilB 
or blue-^ray list, which finds a market among varioM 
semi-civilised nations in America and Asia. Arm 
cloths, middling or bad, according to the price paii 
(they seldom deserve a better name than 'middlins*), 
are very largely made here : the poor f eUowa ontaidB 
Sebast(^l had full reason to know that much mxmgfi 
and shoddy lead to sponginess and fragUity; bol 
we are mending our ways now, and army cioih is 
better than in those days. There is a blue kind 
called Turkey doth, made in this district, eo vaf 
poor in ^uaUtv that, though a yard and a haa 
wide, it IS sold for two shillings a yard: if the 
Sultan Abd-el-Medjid's soldiers are clothed in tiuBi 
Heaven help them ! Those double-&u;ed, hypo- 
critical kinds of cloth called reversibles are reaihr 
venr strong; they present diflerent textures ana 
difi^rcnt colours on the two surfaces, and are made ia 
great variety as to shade, style, quality, and finisk 
The weaving is peculiar, for, in fact, two clotha an 
woven into one, and the subsibance is thus thick aad 
solid. Moscows and presidents are two leading kiiidi 
of these reversibles. Linings are brightly colom^ 
doths, mostly plaid in pattern, and used for liimc 
coats and cloaks. Bearskins and deerskins aie — irlw! 
shall we deem them? — base deceivers? No: wbim 
everything else is called by its right name, then wS 
we quarrel with these desiffnations for paiticiilar 
kinds of cloth ; and, after aS, as these claih bear- 
skins and deerskins really do keep men and 



warm in cold weather, we will not be angry if a littk 
shoddy and mungo finds its way into the ohfwwr 
varieties. Velvets, too, are not really velvet; Sqr 
are woollen cloths, so shorn and trimmed aa to 
present a velvet-looking material for ooate and 
mantles. Union cloths, prison cloths, conmel cLotii^ 
and asylum cloths tell their own tale ; they are moa^y 
neutral in tint, and must not be scanned too 
closely as to quality. Coloured blankets, as ooatingl 
and coverlets for Indian fur-hunters and negro alayea 
in America, are specimens of the power of Batley and 
Dewsbury to make low-priced goods for cettaia 
mxurkets. But of all the articles in the shoddy mta^' 
facture, pilots, as thej are called, take the lead. Tbiff 
are now made to an immense extent, as a material lor 
very thick coats and jackets, to be worn by aaihxi 
and other persons much exposed to the weathfiKt 
They arc of various colours, but most frequently hIiMb 
and make the nearest approach to the finish of good 
cloth that the materisJs will permit. It is reaUr 
surprising how neat an ap])earance is given to a dots 
saleable perhaps at three or four shillings a yard ; and 
how great the ingenuity shewn in weavmg that which 
has no wool of any kind in the warp, and very litUe 
neip wool in the weft. 

All the articles in the above formidable list aie 
shoddy cloths — or rather, they may be shoddy cloths. 
It depends upon the price. If the price won't paj 
for all wool, then make it of wool and cotton ; if the 
wool cannot be all new wool at the price, then wool 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



105 



and mungo ; if not even tlus can be afforded, then 
wool and ahoddy ; and even if it be wool and shoddy, 
there may be a * rivulet ' of the fonner to an * ocean' 
of the latter. 

Let us not run away with the idea that there is 
anything disreputable or unfair in all this. To apply 
to the utmost ]K)8sible use all the substances arouna 
us, is one of the marks of advancing civilisation. 
There is no harm, moral or oommercial, in mixing 
shoddy and mungo with new wool in making cloth. 
The harm begins when men sell the finishes com* 
modity for '^^lat it is not. Even if tibey do this, 
however, they arc sure to be found out in the end ; 
and shoddy doth settles down in the market for 
what it leally is — a low-priced useful substitute 
for more expensive cloth made wholly of new wool. 
Mr Jubb, who is very candid in bis exposition of 
the manufacture, insistB upon it that the system is 
rather praiseworthy than otherwise. 'Let not the 
world suppose,' he says, 'that shoddy is execrable 
rubbish, which it is almost fdonious to use in the 
fabrication of doth. Nor let it entertain the idea 
that shoddy goods (so called) are not composed 
laigdy of sheep's wool as well as shoddy. These 
fabrics contain certain prcmortions of each material, 
according to the quality of we goods. The wool used 
is in an ascending ratio with the value of the doth, so 
that the mungo used in the best goods runs almost 
to nil ; even a small proportion of mungo, used with 
fine wool, sensibly reduces the cost of the doth so 
composed, which for all practical purposes is equally 
serviceable as if made of all wooL' 



IMPRISONED IN BURMAH. 

FoBTT years ago, the Burmese empire was an unex- 
plored r^on, and its port of Rangoon the only town 
where even the Nation of Shopkeepers could do any 
businesa. Two missions from the Bengal government 
had indeed been sent to the court of Ava, but their 
experience and representations of native ignorance, 
msult, and caprice were not of a natiure to tempt the 
commercial traveller. One Mr Henry Croucer, how- 
ever, a young dvilian in India, of three-and-twentv, 
entertained the idea that Amerapoorah — if one could 
but get there — ^would be as glad to have British 
cottons as any more dvilised pl^x}, nor was he intimi- 
dated by the srim suggestion of his friends, that the 
Burmese m^t inde^ be glad to have cottons, but 
not to par for them — the httlc that was known for 
certain of this outlandish nation being, that it was 
lying, shifty, and addicted to the repudiation of pecu- 
niaiy claims. Mr €k)U2er arrived safdy at Rangoon, 
with preaenta for the king and his court, and a few 
thflusmd pounds' worth of British goods. One-tenth, 
however, of every article he brought with him was at 
once exacted as import duty; and the captain was 
directed to send in the snipes rudder, so that his 
veswl might be placed entirely in the power of the 
anihoritiea. The duties were levied in kind, so that 
the royal custom-house had rather tlic air of a marine 
■tore ; and when the number of pieces of cloth were 
not cUvisiblo by ten, a piece was torn asunder. As 
boats were not to be hired, Mr Gouger bought a couple 
ci canoes to carry himself and cargo up the Irrawaadi 
to the seat of government. The river is easily navi- 
gable, nor did he meet with much obstruction from the 
authorities of the towns on his way, the circumstance 
of hii carrying presents for the king protecting him. 
Themosqmtoes, nowever, were almcMt insupportable, 
and it was injudicious to sit in the stem of a light 
canoe, since it was thereby depressed low enough to 
admit of your being taken out of it by the alli^tors. 
Duriog the six weeks occupied by wis transit, the 
assiduous Mr Gouger made hmuelf master of the Bur- 
mese language. He foimd Amerapoorah in a state of 
tnnsition, because the king had taken it into his head 



to move the court to Ava. which ancient city, being 
in ruins, had to be rebuilt for his royal acconmiodation. 
The Burmese monarchs are prone to these gicantic 
* flittings,' with each of which the population of half a 
city is reduced to beggary ; but the nobles fill their 
pockets by the corru[it distribution of building-sitea, 
and the frequent litigation to which the removius give 
rise — for the principle of justice is quite unknown in 
Bumiah, nor can the simplest right be exercised with- 
out the hdp of a bribe. The king received Mr Grouger 
very gradously, and allowed hun to dispense with tibe 
native attitude of sitting on one hall of his body 
only; but the queen, though equally ci^ did not 
make the same allowance lor European prejudices. 
' Her majesty condescended to present me, as a mark 
of her especial favour, with a pawn from her oym box. 
It was a leaf endosing a combination of substances at 
which my stomach revolted — arcoa-nut, tobacco, terra 
iaponica, lime, and spices, and I know not what 
b^des. What was I to do ? I could not chew all 
this nastiness to a pulp, as was evidently required of 
me, so with great deliberation I put it into my waist- 
coat-pocket. A burst of laughter followed from the 
young ladies behind, at what they supposed to bo my 
Ignorance ; another peal, when I told them I should 
keep it for ever as a mark of her majesty's distinguished 
favour. The present of a pawn in its crude state is 
not much amiss, but the exnibition of it in a different 
shape quite sickened me. Her majesty, after some 
chewing of one of these delicades, took it from her 
mouth, and handed it over to a pretty girl behind her, 
who, esteeming herself highly honoured by the gift — 
horribUe dvctut—yo^^oe^ the nasty morsel into her 
mouth, and completea its mastication.' 

Mr Gouger concluded from this, that the king and 
queen of Surmah were a veiy good-natured, wough 
rather a vulvar couple ; but a naturalised Englishman 
— whom, to his extreme astonishment, he found at the 
court, and whose history is a romance in itself — ^unde- 
ceived him upon this point. Yadza — for that was 
the nearest approach of which the Burmese tongue 
admitted to the gentleman's real name, which was 
Rodgers — had been in youth in the East India Com- 
pany's service, but having had a difficulty with his 
ship^s mate, and, indeed, having left him for dead after 
a tremendous beating, had HA to Burmah, where he 
had remained ever since — that is to say, for forty 
years. * Do not trust, sir,' said he, * to these conde- 
scending maimers of his majesty. He gives way to 
sudden bursts of passion, when for a little while nc is 
like a raging madman, and no one dares to approach 
him. I was once present at a fuU durbar, wnere all 
the officers of government then at the capital were 
assembled. The king was seated on a raided chair, as 
you have seen hun, to all appearance in nis usual good 
temper, when something was said by one present 
which irritated him. His majesty rose quickly from 
his chair, and disappeared at a door opening to a 
private apartment behind the throne. The council 
looked all aghast, not knowing what to think of it, 
but when he re-appeared arm^ with a long spear, the 
panic was universal. /Sauve qui peut. We made a simul- 
taneous rush to the wide flight of steps leading to the 
palace-yard, like a herd of deer before a savage tiger ; 
down the stairs we went pell-mdl, tumbling over each 
other in our haste to escape, without respect to rank 
or station. His majesty made a furious rush at us, 
chased the flying crowd to the head of the flight of 
st^rs, and then, quite forgetting in his frenzy' who 
was the delinquent, launched his spear in the midst of 
us at a venture. It passed my cneek, and stuck in 
the shoulder of an unfortunate man on the step before 
me, without doing him any very serious injury. The 
only man who remained in the council hidl was the 
old Sakkya Woongee, who could not cscai)e because of 
his infirmity, however much he might have wished it. 
He had the cunning to crawl up to a huge marble 
image of Guatama, ahi'ays erected in the haU, ready to 



106 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



receive his majesty's devotiozis, pretending to offer up 
prayers for the averting of the king's wrauL* 

Mr Gouger had not to wait long before he was 
himself a witness to the * tantrums'^ into which the 
sovereign could put himself on occasion, and indeed 
very onen when there was no occasion for them. 
* The new palace was now far advanced towards com- 
pletion. It was indeed a remarkably beautiful build- 
mg. The tallest of the teak-trees of his forests had 
been hewn and carved into pillars, long elegant vistas 
of which, richly gilded, already mark^ its noble pro- 
portions. The tall spire, consisting of a number of 
roo^ tapering one above the other, m the woU-known 
Chinese style, had just been crowned by the golden 
tee, or umlarella, regarded as the glory of the palaoe, 
the use of it being confined to the royal residence and 
to sacred edifices. This spire is erected over the hall 
of audience, and the sacr^ tee, on its pinnacle, with 
its hoop of sonorous bells, is placed as nearly as pos- 
sible over the throne itself. The architect who phumed 
the palace stood deservedly high in his master's favour, 
for it was admired by every one as a perfect specimen 
of good taste. The king was so much pleased with it, 
that he often amused himself by goins to inspect the 
progress of the works. On one of &ese excursions, 
the town was visited by a terrific thunder-storm, the 
sacred tee was struck by the lightning, the massive 
iron stanchions supporting it bent nearly to a right 
angle, and the ill-uted umbrella of course revered. 
It was indeed a melancholy spectacle to behold the 
fragments of this beautiful pinnacle, suspended at an 
immense height, a mark for all the fury of the storm. 
But the temp^t was nothing in comparison with that 
which raged in the breast of the tyrant, when he 
beheld his glory blown to shreds, and an omen of evil 
brought upon his throne. As he could not vent his 
f my on the elements, he turned it on the able but ill- 
fated architect. I did not see him at the moment, 
but was told his rage was like frantic insanity. The 
poor man was hunt^ up, and dragged to the place of 
execution, the tyrant ejaculating at intervals: "Is 
he dead? Is he dead?'' as if grudging a prolonged 
existence, even of a few minutes. 

This king, in his savage and unreasonable hiimcurs, 
which had often a sort cS grim absurdity about th^o^ 
that nobody but the victims could help laughing at, was 
nothing so much as an iU-conditioned and cruel school- 
bully. A band of adroit ju^glen^ who had crossed 
from Madras on speculation to exhibit their feats in 
the royal presence, had been so highly successful, that 
his majesty, by way of rewarding merit, had forbidden 
their dei>arture; and the poor wretches had been 
already akthe court tw(» years, without a prospect of 
release, on a splendid allowance of a basket of rice to 
eachperson monthly. 

* The old king, grandfather of the present one, was 
by turns a bigot and a heretic ; at one time slaying 
his subjects, because they were not orthodox Buddh- 
ists ; at another, unfrocking their priests and confis- 
cating their monasteries with as little remorse as our 
own "bluff King Hal," his subjects sdso foUowinc 
the lead with equal o1>sequiousness. At one i)eriod, 
when the heretical mood was in the ascendant, his 
majesty was troubled in mind while in search of 
the true religion, which he had the sagacity to sec 
that Buddhism was not. 

'Once launched on the ocean of speculation, the 
currents drifted the uneasy monarch hither and 
thither, until at last they set him on the shoal of 
Mohammedanism. His majesty hit upon a very curious 
method of taking the soundings of this faith, in 
order to ascertain whether there was good holding- 
ground at the bottom. He was told that ti^ey 
abhorred pork, and would not eat it. " Very ri^ht 
too," said his majesty; "your Sheen Gautama tneil 
to eat it, and you know it killed him." " True, yoiu* 
majesty," was the rcjily ; " but our religion does not 
prevent our following hU example, if we like, wher£A.s 



with thorn it is a matter of their faith — ^they would 
die rather than pollute themselves with it." TZie 
cunninff tiiought now passed through the monarchal 
mind, uiat if they woiud rather die than taste a bit 
of pork, there must be some virtae at the root cl 
their faith. "We will try." 

* Now, there were many Mohammedans retidiiig a 
Ava, some of them foreigners, others native-bocB 
subjects of the king. Of these he commaodtd 
several of the most considerable to assemble at hii 
palace, where, to their consternation, the flesh of tbe 
hated animal was placed rcadv cooked before then, 
and they were commanded, witnout further ceremony, 
to fall- to at once. What a study for Lavater! What 
a subject for Leech! I feel it is wrong to mab 
tyranny, in its most detestable form, an occasion for 
amusement; but who can conti'ol the imaffl'nation ia 
such a case? \Mio docs not picture to >»iT»»»lf the 
countenance of a solemn moulvie, with his hand oa 
his flowing beard, cursing the savoury sparerih, u, 
with a retcning, sea-sick stomach, he gapes to recein 
the unholy morsel? The look of despair — ^the ill* 
concealed rage — the mutual, recognisiug glances d 
the chief actors, as much as to say : " We are all in thi 
same boat— don't tell of me, and I won't tell, of you!" 
The scene must have been unique of its kind.* 

The then monaruh of Burmah was himsHlf addicted 
to astrulo|^cal rather than to religions speculation 
When echpses of the sun were expected, it wm 
the custom of this siimilar court, tfaiat the Casaii 
Bralunins, of whom there were many residing ia 
Amerapoorah, should notify the same to the king, 
* Whether these pn-dictions were given from calcula- 
iions made by themselves, or whether thev acquired 
their knowledge elsewhere, I forget, but the time at 
which the eclipse was to take place was always m^ 
sented irom. some source or other. These Brahmisi, 
from the influence they hod acquired over the kii^a 
mind by their proficiency in his favourite study, had 
become objects of general envy, and it broke out 
fiercely at this time, the malcontents taking their 
stand incautiously on very slippery ground. Thsj 
aspired to a short-lived vicibory by denying the cQr> 
rectness of their opponents' prediction. Many of the 
chief courtiers joined the cabal from mere hatred to 
the Brahmins, without the slightest knowledge of the 
question, or dread of the conse<^ucuces. The cunning 
old king maintained a vexatious silence until the 
chief men al)out his court were committed to one side 
or the other ; then, when he had drawn a sufiSdent 
number into his net, he threatened to punish the 
losing partyi whichever it might be, for attempting to 
deceive liinL 

* A pool of water lay invitingly near, and perha||» 
suggested the thought. "The Brahmins, or their 
accusers, shall stand up to the neck in that ponw d," 
said the king; then turning to Mr Rodders : "What 
do you say, Yadza? Are the Brahmins right or 
wron« ?" " Now," said Mr Rodgers, " if I bad onjy 
had we wisdom to sav that I was an unlearned man, 
and knew nothing of these matters, all would have 
been right; but, fired i^dth the ambition of being 
thought a learned man, I replied : ' I have not made 
the calculation, your majesty.' 'Ohl then you can 
calculate eclipses?' ^Yes, your majesty, i^ter a 
fashion.' * Then go home instantly, and let me knov 
what you say to-morrow.' 

* " I went home, not to stuily the deep thin^ of 
Newton, you may be sure, but a book of far greater 
value to my weak comprehension, the laengal 
AlmatMCf a copv of which had been sent me for that 
year. All I had to do was the school-boy task of cot- 
recting for the lon^tude, and as bold as brass I gave 
the result to his majesty. The heads of many a man 
of rank, and of many an ill-starred astronomer^ did 
I behokl, waving as thick as lilies, on the surface of 
that pond! But I had acquired a character that 
taxed all my ingenuity to support, and from that 



OHAMBBRS^ JOURNAL. 



107 



tune, as long as iho old fox livBd, I took especial care, 
with the fear of tiie horse-pond ever present, never to 
be without a copy of the Bmgal Afmual AhnaMc^^ ' 

The life of a courtier, whidi every man must lead 
who would get on in Bunnah, was always haaaBrdous, 
and the court itself by no means attnotive. The 
very harem of the kinc waa composed of anything 
but beauties, and gave 3ur Gouger, at first, a bad klea 
of the royal taste. He soon found, however, that the 
ladies were chosen for politioal reasons, as their very 
name of 'Oovemors* Daughters' indeed implied^ When 
any nobleman is made ruler of a province, and espe- 
oiuly if it be a distant one, his nearest female relative 
is taken to the palaoe, as hoetue for his fidelity. 
For a considerable time, the inde&i^ble Mr Gkrager 
— ^making the most satia&ujtory bajrgams, and inaugu- 
rating, as he flattered himself, a most magnificent 
mercantile system — retained the royal &vour, and 
was hand-and-glove with the aristooraoy generally. 
Once only he got into trouble about killing a sheep — 
for which offence, since the Burmese are Kirbiddcai to 
eat any meat but carrion, a poor peasant was soon 
afterwards ' quartered alive, as he had Quartered the 
animal' — ^but even this was got over dv judicious 
bribery, and he subsMrnently obtained his mutton 
as in England, Prince Tharawudi, the heir-apparent, 
becoming accessory after the fact, and daily sharer in 
tin forbidden delicacy. Nay, he was even permitted 
to make a voyage to Calcutta, whence he brought 
back with him a greyhound for the king — a good 
service, which placed him more fully in the royal 
sunshine than ever. But the dark days of this too 
enterprising trader were drawins; near I 

No sooner did the war breaJc out with England, 
than the feeling oi the monarch altered towards him, 
and those of we court of course participated in the 
change. Mr Gouger was seized upon as a British 
spy, and upon the stiUsraver suspicion of beins the 
nother-in-law of the l^nourable East Indian Com- 
pany. Hie Burmese statesmen were seriously of 
cpmion that the H. E. L C. had married Mr Qouger's 
nster. On these charges, he waa hurried into cap- 
tmty, esDchanging his sumptuous fare and scarlet 
ffaieiy (for he wore a complete harlequin suit of Stuart 
tartan silk, by the gracious command of his majesty) 
for the unimaginsble horrors of tiie Let^moryoon toitng, 
or Dealh-prison, its name, being UteraUy interpreted, 
signifying 'Hand! shrink noV from the revolting 
cnieltiei pnaotised within its walls. * Although it 
was betw een four and five o'clock on a brii^t sunny 
aftnnoon, the my. of light only penHntoTthnni^ 
tiie chinks and cracks of the walls suflicienUy to 
dlwdoae the utter wretchedness of all within. Some 
tone elamed bctfcre I could dearly distinguish the 
objects by which I was surrounded. As m^ eyes 
gnduaDy adapted themselves to the dim hg^t, I 
aaoertained it to be a room about forty feet long by 
thirty feet wide, the fioor and sides made of s^ng 
teak-wood planks, the former being raised two feet 
tram the earth on poets, which, according to the 
unal style of Burmese architectcure, ran through the 
bodv of the bnildinff, and supported the tiled roof as 
wm as the rafters for the floor and the plankins of 
file walls. The heiji^t of the walls frmn the floor 
waa five or six feet, but the roof being a sloping one, 
the centre might be double that height. It had no 
window or aperture to admit light or air except a 
cloaely woven bamboo wicket used as a door, and 
tins was always kept closed. Fortunately, the builders 
had not expendea much labour on the walls, the 
planks of which here and there were not very closely 
imitod, aflTording through the chinks the only ventila- 
tion the apartment possessed, if we except a hole 
near the roof, where, either by accident or design, 
naasly a foot in length of decayed plank had heeaa. 
torn off. This form^ a safety-valve for the escape 
of fool air to a certain extent; and, but for this 
{ortuitoiis circumstance, it is difficult to see how life 



could have been long sustained. .... Before me, 
stretched on the floor, lay forty or fiftv hajdess 
wretohes, whose crimes or misfortunes had brought 
them into this place of torment. They were all nearly 
naked, and the half- famished features and skeld«on 
frames of many of them too plainly told the story of 
their protractcid sufferings. Very few were without 
chains, and some had one or both feet in the stocks 
besides^ A si^ht of such squalid wretchedness can 
hardly be imagined. Silence seemed to be the cider 
of the day; perhaps the poor creatures were so 
engrossed with their own misery, that they hardly 
cared to make many remarks on the intrusion of so 
unusual an inmate as myself. The prison had never 
been washed, nor even swept, since it was bmlt. So 
I was told, and have no doubt it was true, for, 
besides the ocular proof from its present conddtion, 
it is certain no attempt was made to deanse it during 
mv subsequent tenancy of many months. This gave 
a kind of faxedness or permanency to the fetid odours, 
until the very floors and walls were saturated with 
them, and joined in emitting the pest. Putrid remains 
of casta'way animal and ve^stable stuff, which needed 
no broom to make it move on — ^the stale fumes from 
thousands of tobacco-pipes — the scattered ejections 
of the pulp and liquid from their everiasting betel, 
and other nameless abominations, still more disffust- 
ing, which strewed the floor — and if to this be added 
the exudation from the bodies of a crowd of never- 
washed convicts, encouraged by the thermometer at 
100 degrees, in a den almost without ventilation — is 
it possible to say what it smeit like?' Hie furniture 
of this den consisted of rows of great wooden stocks, 
which, like huge alligators, opened and shut their 
jaws with a loud snap upon the arrival of each 
victim; and of a long oamboo, suspended from the 
roof by a rope at eac^ end, and worked by pulleys, 
to nuse or depress it at pleasure. At nicnt, tiie 
'father,' or chief oi the lailers — who had all uie ring- 
mark branded on each cneek, which distinffuishes t£s 
Burmese executioners — caused this bamooo to 1)e 
passed between the legs of each individual, 'and 
when it had threaded our number, seven in all, a 
man at each end hoisted it up by the blocks to a 
height which allowed our shouldcors to rest on the 
ground, while our feet depended from the iron rings 
of the fetters. The adjustment of the height was 
left to the judgment of our kind-hearted parent, who 
stood hy to see that it was not hi^ enough to 
endjmger life, nor low enough to exempt from pain.' 
The other six who were Mr Gouffer's companions on 
the bamboo were the following: ^r Laird, a Scotch- 
man, recently kidnapped at Rangoon; the unhapjjy 
Bodgers, whose naturalisation and long residence in 
the countrycould not shield him from tne royal fury; 
Dr Judson, and Dr Price, two American missionaries, 
who were confounded with the British by the ungco- 
graphical Burmese; and two Hindu scrvante of Mr 
Gouger. All conversation, even meanings themselves^ 
died away among this wretched community, whoa 
three o'dock was proclaimed each afternoon by the 
palace gong. A deathlike silence prevailed. 'It 
seemed as though even breathing were suspended 
under the control of a panic terror, too deep for 
expression, which pervaded every bosom. We did 
not long remain in ignorance of the cause. If any 
of the prisoners were to sufier death tiiat day, the 
hour of three was that at which they were taken out 
for execution. The very manner of it was the acme 
of cold-blooded cruelty. The hour was scarcely told 
by the gong, when the wicket opened, and the hideous 
figure <S a spotted man appeared, who, without utter^ 
ing a word, walked straight to his victim, now for 
the first time probably made acquainted with his 
doom. As many of these unfortunate people knew 
no more than oursdvos the fate that awaited them, 
this mystery was terrible and agoiiiaing; each one 
fearing, up to the last moment^ that the stride of the 



108 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



Spot might be directed his way. When the culprit 
duappeared witib his conductor, and the priaon-aoor 
closed bdiind them, those who remained TOgan again 
to brea^e more freely; for another day, at least, 
their lives were safe.' 

Scarcely anything in the whole range of literature 
is more graphic and interesting than the account of 
this imprisonment ; nothing in fiction approaches it 
for outlandish barbarity, but at the same time for 
philosophical, almost cheerful resi^iation. Heavily 
ironed, witness to the tortures and death of othen 
daily, and expecting them daily for himself ; with no 
chance of rescue ; deprived of eveiythin^ he possessed, 
and dependent solely upon a certam benevolent 
Mohammedan baker for his escape from positive star- 
vation — the fate of many of his lellow-pnsoners, from 
whom the jailers had filched the royal allowance 
appointed for them, and who had therefore nothing to 
look to but the donations of the charitable; ^my, 
naked, and, on one occasion, actually chained to a leper , 
did Mr Gou^r contrive for more than a year to 
retain not omy existence, but even hope. He had 
been permitted, by favour of the jailer's pretty 
daughter, to occupy for a time — in company with a 
legion of rats— a separate cell, where dysentery at 
length completely prostrated him, and broujo;ht him to 
death's door. Death, indeed, was written m his face, 
wben one of the rinffed-face men came in and carried 
him back again to uie stifling inner prison. *■ What 
could this mean ?' thought he. * I concluded that at 
last the government had made the distinction between 
my guilt and that of my companions, and that I had to 
die a felon's death. Ijiey must be quick, however, or 
the last Enemy would snatch the prey from their 
gnuy. 

* A^ain I was wrong. I did not owe it to this ; nor 
is it iBiely that any human being could guess the true 
reason. I did not mysdf learn it untH some time 
after. It was this : if a prisoner dies within the vxMs 
qf the prisoHf his funeral obsequies are performed at 
tiie expense of the government. His bbd^ is rolled 
up in a mat, slung on a bamboo, and deposited in the 
adjoining srave-yard. If he dies vnthin the edUy his 
corpse is disposed of in a similar manner, the only 
difference being that in the one case the CMOst of the 
mat is paid by the government, in tiie other it falls 
on the keepers. These men, judging from appearance 
that I might die that nisht, had an eye to saving the 
expense of the mat — a few pence at most — ^probably 
none at all, as an old one serves for the purpose.' 

Neither Mr Grouger, however, nor any of his 
European fellow-sufferers, were destined to die within 
the walls of the Let-ma-yoon. 'On the 2d of May, 
our party, now eieht in number, again found itsdf 
assembled aroima the memorable granite block. 
What a ghastly group I The matted hair, the hollow 
eye, the feeble sait, the emaciated frame, the filUiy 
tattered rags — objects such as the sun surely never 
beforo shone upon! Around us the Spotted men 
gathered for the last time. Thank God 1 i never cast 
my eye upon one of their detestable ringed cheeks 
after this day. They wero now armed with spears, 
and each held in his hand a long piece of cord. Our 
irons were knocked off— for the first time for eleven 
months I found my limbs free. The sensation was 
ridiculous. At first, I could hardly stand— the equi- 
librium of the body seemed destroyed by the removal 
of the fetters I haa so long worn on my ankles, weigh- 
ing full fourteen pounds — the head was too heavy for 
the feet This only lasted a short time, and I enjoyed 
the first stretch of my legs. We were now tied in 
couples by the waist, one at eadi end of the rope ; a 
pahouet, with a spear, holding the rein, just as 
children are seen to drive each other in ilieir sports. 
Off we went, we knew not whither bound, but con- 
jectured, by the manner of the men and their weapons, 
we were going to the place of execution.' 

Instead of tiiis, they were all driven away to 



another jail in the country, the condition of whid 
would have made a prison inspector weep, but whick 
was an Eden bower compared to their recent place of 
durance. Here, too, they would all have starved but 
for the faithful baker, who ran the six miles from 
Amerapoorah daily, bringing his loaves with hin. 
The reason of their removal was unknown to the pMr 
wrotches ; Uiey only ffuessed that it boded them ns 
good, since tney had incurred the rraentzneiit d 
Facahm-woon, the new Burmese generalissimo againi 
tiie British, by whose orders the chan^^ had beet 
effected. When the sluices wero opened to ir* ^ 
the rice-fields about their somewhat elevated dwi 
it was inundated by vermin and roptiles of all 
who wished to escape death by drowning, and c»ch of 
the prisoners was allowed a stick to defend himi^ 
A tfuly was kept of the number killed of these jsar 
welcome guests, and of the cobra da capello aloDS it 
amoimted to thirteen ! 

One day an enormous cage was wheeled into thi 
enclosuro, and placed imder their apartment. Thii 
contained a huge lioness, who was not to have aoj 
food given to her for the present As day after day 
she grow moro ravenous, and they heard her eveiy 
roar and even her terrible breatmngs, but too well 
surmising that they themselves wero doomed at la4 
to be her proy, it is no wonder that the mind o! cat 
of them nearly lost its balance. But the poor lioDMi 
died — starved to death — after all, and one of ti» 
prisoners, fever-stricken, gladly removed into htf 
deserted tenement The Pacahm-woon had deddod 
that the white prisoners, instead of beiujg devonndL 
should be buried alive at the head of his army, for 
luck; and this would certainly have oome to pHib 
but %it that hero himself fell under the displeann 
of his sovereign, and was happUy trodden to ^Mlk 
by elephants. 

Eventually, the success of the British arms osmt 
pelled the surrender of Mr Gouger and his companiav 
irom the Burmese government ; and, as in the ooneb* 
sion of a nurserv-tale, they all lived happy eiv 
afterwards, and the good bajLer got rowardeo. Wai 
ever nursery-tale steanger than this true histoiTT 
Bid ever man in a book pass through greater pcni 
and sufferings than this man really did, who is nov 
alive to tell us of them? In his extreme modieil;^, 
Mr Gouger apologises for having published thv 
narrative, on account of his never having followed 
literary pursuits, and of the ciroumstances described 
having taken place so long ago. Setting aside, howevei^ 
the intense interest of the adventures themselves, the 
book needs no excuse of any kind. Its Btj\A is. as 
easy as that of Bobinson Crusoe^ while its refle<^aiit 
have something of the same simplicity and gnikdMi^ 
ness ; and as for the staleness of the subject, then is 
but too present a parallel now offered to it m the treat- 
ment 01 our unhappy fellow-countrymen in ChiniL 
The Chinese, however, cannot urae the plea of bnitd 
jsnorance which might be used in the case of tbi 
Burmese of forty years ago. ' Some of the natives idbs 
had fled from the war, and were thrown into the ssioRi 
prison, gave us marvellous accoimts of the sldll and 
prowess of the English troops, exaggerated by thidr 
own superstitious fancies. They firmly believed IB 
our usmg enchantments. One of these convicti 
affirmed, that even our missiles were charmed befoia 
they were fired off, and knew what they had to 
do. He was standing, he said, near his TaA-haip an 
officer of rank, when a hu^ ball of iron came singBU 
" Tsek, tsek," which he distinctly heard in its fl§^ 
when, true to its mission, it burst upon the verymaa 
it was calling out for, the unfortunate Teek-Jsai! Tbxm 
who have seen shell-practice, know the peculiar hissing 
noise made by the fuse in its course through the aiii 
and can enter into the mistake of the wonder-strickea 
soldier. Our surgical operations, too, had come to hi* 
knowledge, but, with the ignorance of a savage, he 
concluded our surgeons amputated injured limbs only 



|i. 



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I. ' 



OHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



^109 



o repair and fit them on again. He could not con- 
eive an^ otLer motive for cutting them off.* 
There u one lesson we may all leam horn Mr Gon^;er^8 
t>lnme,* and of which we have most of us not a httle 
leed — ^not to bewail ourselves about small calamities, 
rhen such sufferings as these sometimes befall our 
eUow-creatures. 'When I look back,' says he, 'on 
he almost unexampled sufferings of those two months, 
low Hgfat and insisnificant do Si tihe ordinary troubles 
>f life appear! When such arise, I have only to 
reflect, and be thankful.* 

RAILWAY CHANCES. 

[if common with my peripatetic brethren, doubtless, 
t had often been my lot to arrive at a railway station 
ioo late for one train, and too eariy for its sue- 
sessor. Under these melancholv circumstances, to 
kill time* during certain long hours and fractions 
A hours, became to me a problem of the utmost 
niiportance. As I paced the unsympathetic stones 
>f that modem ScUU des Pas PerdttSy the station, 
.he railway placards assimied to my eyes an 
mportance commensurate with the four-inch cha- 
uciters in which they were printed. I studied them, 
4 course, in common witn many fellow-sufiferers ; 
ind I believe that, should a competitive examination 
jver take place with reference to Thorley's Food 
'or Cattle, Elkincton's Electro-plate, Rimmel s perfect 
kibstitute for Silver, and the tiondon Crystal Palace 
18 an advertising medium, I should gain an incredible 
■umber of points, and pass triimiphantly into the 
lervice of my country. But there was one caba- 
istio notification which attracted an undue propor- 
^on of my spare time to itself, perhaps the more 
iasfly on account of its glaring size. While Joseph 
Fhorley, in seeking to b^efit the supposed tenants 
if my pastures, pigsties, and stables, was content 
irith a modest four-inch set of Roman capitals; 
(Hule Elkington addressed me in Gk>thic Rimes, and 
Etimmd in a flourishing copperplate text, like a prize 
miting-mastcr — this tremendous notice bade me, in 
etiers half a foot long, 'Beware of Pickpockets!* 
Mliy should I beware of pickpockets in particular? 
kuely, I used to think, tnere are other shoals and 
ndden rocks in life equidly to be eschewed with pick- 
30cketB. Why does not the benevolent sa^e who 
penned yonder legend, bid me beware of plausible 
ipeculators, of bubble-companies, of make-believe 
TBcdnation, of cheap guns, Brummagem jewellery, 
mseaworthy ships, or the oidium in p^toes ? Why 
lickpockets ? Bairinetons and Three-fingered Jacks 
ire bad things, no doubt ; but so are pirates and high- 
tnijmen, fires and shipwrecks, which I am not advised 
so goard against. Why pickpockets ? And I looked 
ummd me, and eyed my fellow-captives, moodily 
ncins like myself, with suspicious scrutiny, and then 
ookea up again at the glanng black and white bill. 
Bid saw thuS it was even of a more alarminff nature 
liua I had feared at first 'Beware of Pick- 
jockets, Male and Female* — ^thus it ran, in Brob- 
bngnagian characters. Worse and worse ! Not only 
mv I thus authoritatively commanded to mistrust 
B(y brother-men, yawning like myself in the waiting- 
twms^ or stamping, like myself, their miserable boot- 
leds up and down the windy pLsttform, but I was not 
sren to repose confidence in uiat fair and gentle sex 
itIm) share our joys, alleviate our sorrows, and smooth 
oar path throu^ existence. Gracious goodness I Male 
uid female ! Must those gentle beings, too, like our 
ron^bar and ruder selves, be encountered with the 
Kmted eye of suspicion, and the buttoned-up pocket 
of nrecaution? Tnat dear old lady, for instance, so 
nouierly and comfortable of aspect, with the satin 
gown, l£e glossy curls — ^just perhaps a l^e too smooth 

'A PtnoHol Narrative of Two Ywxnf Impriaonment in Brnmah, 
Bf Bvary Ooagcr. Morniy, London. 



to be of her own ^wing — the gold watch, warm cloak, 
and fat pug held m silken durance ; has ^e any desicm 
upon my portemonnaie, my guard-chun, my pencu- 
case, or my other portable jewellery? And those 
delightful young creatures — sisters — ^who look so well 
in their pretty hats, and plumes, and jackets, and 
neat little Balmoral boots — those fair young maidens, 
so sprightly and innocent, to all appearance — ^would 
they, toOy pick my pocket ? Male ana female ! Must 
I shim my species ? 

It took some little time and reflection to change 
the current of these truly unwelcome ideas. After 
all, pickpockets were oftener spoken of than suffered 
from. They were myths as far as my own experience 
went. Nobody ever clandestindy annexed the con- 
tents of my pocket ; and as far as I was personally 
concerned, I had as much call to believe in the exist- 
ence of gnfSns or wyvems as of the swell-mob. After 
a good many years of knocking about this world of 
ours, I had come to the conclusion that mankind 
were not exactly rascals, after alL I had found a 
sreat deal of good, even in very slippery people ; and 
ror every instance of roguery or oppression, I could 
remember a hundred cases which shewed that love, 
and charity, and justice, and mercy had not quite 
taken flight with Astrsea from this terrestrial planet. 
So calling this to mind, and being heartily asnamed 
of my original mistrust, I not very logicieJly went 
into the opposite extreme, and regarded pickpockets 
and their like as creations of the poetic £&ncy. To 
be sure, I saw ugly stories in the police-reports, 
and queer newspaper paragraphs respecting those who 
had travelled oy rau in quest of a golden fleece 
— Jasons with a return-ticket — and had been shorn 
on the iron- way; but I skimmed these over lightly. 
Few of us realise the truth of newspaper rejwrts, or 
deem that the * Frightful Occurrences,* or * Awkward 
Adventures,* could ever have ourselves for their 
heroes. 

I will briefly relate what made me change my mind 
with respect to that same incredulity. 

One morning, at an early hour for so raw and misty 
a day, I had been for some time briskly trudging 
along the planking of the Euston Square platform, 
and from time to time throwing a glance at my old 
friends, the railway advertisements, as I awaitea the 
makinp; ready of the 9 a.m. train for the North. 
I was bound for the Highlands. I had a long journey 
before me, and had started early, lest, through any 
unusual 'lock* in the streets, I should be delayed, 
and only dash up in time to hear the words : ' Just 
too late, sir. Two minutes sooner, and you *d 'a done it ! ' 

As matters stood, I was in excellent time. The 
enexgetic station-master, who waves us off, flag in 
hano^ as if he were our standard-bearer, and we a 
forlom-hop« departing to deatii or gloiy, had not yet 
become visible. The porters were wheeling up fabu- 
lous barrow-loads of ooxes and cun-cases, and twir- 
ling ' points,' and ' shunting * carnages out of sidings, 
and 'switching* vans into sidings, and oiling axles, 
and hanging ' Liverpool,* ' Aberdeen,* or ' Carusle,* in 
wood upon the several compartments. It was very 
cold for summer ; the news-boys were blue about the 
nose and fingers, the guard's voluminous whiskers 
were frosty, and the present writer excessively chilly. 
There was nobody m the first-class carriage next 
to the engine — ^in fact, there was but a thin sprink- 
ling of passengers at all, that rainy autumn morn- 
ing — so I stepped in, and wrapping my mg round 
my .knees, composed myself to my snug comer and 
dunp copy of the Times, with a pleasing certain^ 
of not being disturbed. Nobody, I have noticed, 
looks very invitingly at those who seek to share the 
solitude of a railway-carriage of which he is the only 
occupant ; nor did I fail to cast a malevolent glance 
at a somewhat clerical-looking person, dressed like a 
magpie, all in black uid white, who sauntered along 
the platform once or twice, eyed me rather keenly 



110 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



. 



through the window, and then proceeded to step into 
my compartment. Well, he had a right to come in 
if he liked — there was room for six paMengera, and 
I had no cause of complaint; but of coarse I Ult 
somewhat intruded upon, as we all do in such cases. 
The clerical gentleman was hardly seated, before a 
stout man of agricultural aspect bustled up, and ^ 
in— Agricultural aspect, at least, if an agricnlionst 
may Ee conjecturea to be addicted, off the stace, to 
a green coat and brass buttons, red waistcoat, meie 
OTerooat, bird's-eye * chciker,* white hat, and a most 
butcherly pair of top-boois. Immediately after 
this theatncal'looking fanner — who, by the way, 
carried a thick ash stick — arrived a little hook- 
nosed old fellow, with restless black eyes, grizzled 
whiskers, smart neck-scaif, profuse jewelleiy, uid 
unsoaped gloveless paws, jittering all over with 
rings. The last comer was evidenlly of Caucasian 
origin, and broi^;ht with him a fine odour of 
mingled hair-cdl and stale cigars, as well as a clossy 
little portmanteau. It had never been trusted into 
the hands of guard or porter, never labelled, ticketed, 
and stowed away, that treacherous, shining little 
portmanteau. These three gentlemen did not look 
at each other at all ; they were strangers^^ course ; 
but I noticed that tiie ^uard look^ very hard at 
than, when he came round to inspect the tickets. I 
thought he was goin^ to say something to me, but he 
memy growled in nis beard, and pMsed on. The 
station-master waved his flag, the engine squealed 
assent, and off went the north express, tearins like a 
meteor through the countiy. We were past Irimrose 
ffilL 

'Ahem, sir; a fine day,* said the clerical gentle- 
man blandly. It was scarcely a fine day, for the thin 
rain was I ftaliing the window-panes ; but the clergy- 
man was probably an optimist — most good men since 
Dr Pangloss are. I answered with civil briefness, 
and there was a pause. ' Nice weather for the crops,' 
remarked the fanner, with a very uncalled-for ex- 
pletive, which I aftcrwuds fancied he thought need- 
mi for the full rendering of his character; rural 
individuals aJways swear before the foot-lights. I 
bowed in answer, and continued the perusal of my 
leading article. *Dull work this travelling; shad 
dull work,\ observed in his turn the Jewish passen- 
ger, stretching his arms and yawning. I had always 
heaid that gajping was contagious, and so it appeared ; 
for the clerical gentleman instantly yawned too, 
though mildly, and the bucolic traveler yawned 
vehemently, as became their respective stations in life. 
There was another pause, the train racing furiously 
northwards. *Hany news particular, sirr inquired 
the Jew, irho seemed the orator in chief. 1 read 
him out a telegram from Naples, which, however, did 
not appear to interest him much. Perhaps his atten- 
tion was chiefly confined to domestic politics. A 
longer pause succeeded. ' Dull work travellin',' 
repeated the Hebrew at last, and then a triangular 
yawn pervaded the carriajge as before. * Couldn t no 
one, nohow, do nuffin to lighten o' the toime like?' 
boldly demanded the farmer, with a bigger expletive 
than before, for which the clergyman should have 
reproved him. 

' A very shensible idea, to be sure,' said the Jew ; 
' and if shentlemen have no objection, we might play 
a little same or ^o.* The farmer took up the balL 

' Cartu ye mean, I suppose ; and a good notion too, 
to kin toime like. Eh, gents all ?' 

<I should not object myself, in a quiet way, and 
for small stakes, of course,' replied the clerg^moan 
graciously, ' but one obstacle exists — I am afraid we 
nave no cards.' 

It happened, by a wonderful coincidence, that the 
Jewish gentleman had some cards with him. They 
were in the little glossy portmanteau; and ha, had 
them out in a moment, and began to shuffle them 
rapidly through his unsoaped fingers. * Take a hand. 



sir?' was his general invitation. The &rmer and 
clergyman were ready. I looked quietly at the msa, 
and said: * Thank you, no.' 

* O hang it, don% be a muff!' srowled the mand 
turnips 7* that is — ^beg pardon, I'm sure-nlon't bi 
unneigjhbourloike.' 

* For the sake of harmless recreation ! ' hinted Urn 
parson. 

*Shixpence a point won't break yon, I ahuppoM^' 
tittered the Jew satirically. 

At this point I extinguished {he trio by oalHns thar 
attention, politely, to a notice posted insi(te the 
carriage, and having reference to 'pickpockets sad 
card-£arpers.' The clcrg3rman — the most astute d 
the threes—gave up the scheme at onee, for self sad 
partners; fuid repressed the wrath of the stoil 
fanner, who was rather disposed to bully. 'Oad- 
sharpers ! Who does he call card-sharpers ?' growled 
the yeoman, fingering his ash stick. 

' That's enough,' observed the cleigyman, in quite a 
new tone, and with an entirely different aspect 

After this, the Jew produced from his mvalnsUs 
valise some fine rings and watches, a box of cigars— 
* shmugeled, my dear ' — and a nugget of virgin gold; 
which Isst the worthy Hebrew had brous^ hs 
affirmed, from Bendigo diggings, the prize of his owi 
pickaxe ; and which was for sale, like the linn, 
watches, and contraband regalias, on terms eqaafij 
remunerative to the lucky buyer and ndnous to w 
seller. I declined to accqpt any of these commcrail 
sacrifices, and the hook-nosed man gave me im. Of 
course, i^ter this, I had but a sulky assemblage d 
fcUow-voyaffers, and anything but fnendly were Urn 
dances wiw which Jew ana yeoman regarded me. 
But their chief, the mock ecclesiastic, who reslly 
looked the character he had assumed, was not rude or 
demonstratively hostile. On the contrary, when the 
train slackened speed on nearing Tring, and tiht 
smouldering anger of the farmer expl(3ed into s 
defiant: *nho does he call card-sharpers, then? 
What does the genilman mean by eard-sharpen, 
then?' the clergyman silenced him by a still mon 
emphatic 'ThaFs enou^;' and the other wis 
subdued. At Tring they all got out, there to awiit 
the up-train for London, and to look out, donbtlesB, 
for fellow-passengers of a more malleable nature and 
metal more attractive. I saw no more of them. 

They were very transparent knaves, after all, and 
their poor, stale attempts at roguery were anything 
but formidable to what Ecdstaff called * a man of this 
world.' But all of us are not, and cannot be, men cd 
the world. Some of us arc just on the thr^ihold of 
active life, and have a boy's trustfulness, a boy's love 
of novelty, and a boy's wish, above all, to' be con* 
sidered manly. Then there are credulous travelkn^ 
timid travellers, travellers of a character easily led, 
travellers who can be cajoled, or bidlied. or aneeved 
into playing or baiyining with such birds of prey «• 
those I encountered. Very young men, especially, 
are not imfrequently devoid of the necessary firm- 
ness, sensitive to ridicule, averse to offend, and not 
fond of saying 'No' to a proposal of their eldfln. 
There are also silly travellers— sheep only too easily 
shorn. Over all these the law very properly extenflb 
her segis; but law cannot have an eye upon the 
tenants of every railway-carriage. She can only 
punish when ofi^noes are duly proven, and not one 
tithe of such cases of plunder on the rail ever find 
their way to the police-courts and papers. Tlie 
sufferers are nervous, credulous, or ashamed of their 
own folly ; and not desirous to be pilloried in print» 
with names and addresses in fuU, while the cooii 
titters, the magistrate advises more prudence in 
future, and the reporter heads his paragraph with the 
old adage about ' fools and their money.' No — th^ 
lose, aiid wince, and go home; and their spoilers 
chuckle and thrive, till the day of retribution comes, 
and Nemesis in the shape of a detective, claims hit 



^ 



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I A 

p 

9 

a 



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OHAMBBRS'S JOtTHNAL. 



Ill 



j^vilty Tiofchna. Hie OomiMUiiM do their bert, by 
slftoundfl And bills, to mm tiie tlunightleflB agnnst 
hich dttigiu ; and the gUatdt tte ahniys prompt in 
Bheir inteHerence, when aome aenaible paaaenger oom- 
pkina of annoranoe from the gang. Bat the public 
■re their own beet protectora, and it is to the spirit 
and moral coorage of trayaUan tfa^msehres that we 
have to look for the breaking up of the oiganiaed 
syvtam I have here denoted. 



T EETH. 

As elderly gentleman once observed: ' I wonder why 
my whiskers grow gray before my hair.* ' Don't yon 
know?' replied a mde fellow. 'It is because yon 
work your jaws more than vonr brain.' The remark 
was more wise than witty, though it was both ; for, 
after all, what are more worked than jaws ? Do not 
eating and talking divide the result of many people's 
lives? Are not our words our spiritual judra ? Are 
not our bodies prepared food ? Somebody — ^Abemethy, 
I sujppose — says that all our diseases come from 
fretting or stuffing. Now, as the fretting is often 
more outward than inward, it wears the jaw as 
well as the heart; and as to stufBnf, the members 
ion't complain of the stomach, but the stomach and 
the members make common cause against ilie jaw. 

This, to the million, means Teeth. 

Teeth are the great blessings, curses, and character- 
istics of humani^. A year or two ago, there was a 
cuntal picture in the Koyal Academy, the title of 
which was, 'Toothache in the Middle Ages.' A 
monk was sitting on a bench, on which he had 
Laid his nntasted meal — and no wonder. Eat, sir ! 
He was past the howliuj? stage; the skin of his 
oheek was tight and stiu ; you could read, in the 
angnish of his eyes, the red-hot throbs which stabbed 
his jaw; he nad tied it up, and was nursing it 
withal, dolefully in his hand. The picture was truly 
catiiolia Yes, at all ages, to all men, there has been, 
at one time or another of their lives, strong com- 
mon sympathy — Sardanapalus might feel for a lazar, 
Aiistides the Just for Sir John Dean Paul — ^when he 
had a toothache. 

Is not the progress of the teeth a sien ? Whether 
thejr be coming or going, whether at uie first or last 
end of life, in Ihe day or the ni^ht nursery — do they 
not supply the liveUest illustrations of our changing 
moods ? Does not impatience bite her lips ? Does not 
raffe make men grind their teeth, and desperation set, 
aiS condemnation gnash them? Does not the dog 
shew his before he bites ? Does not cold make them 
chattvr in men, and excitement in monkeys ? By the 
way, I 'm afraid to think how much of the difierence 
between these two animals rests upon the conforma- 
tion of their respective teeth. I remember hearing a 
lecture by Professor Owen, in which he explained the 
dental distinction between his audience and apes. I 
really forget what it was. People clapped their nands, 
and hiends nodded triumphantly to one another, as 
much as to say, ' Now the great man has settled the 
question;' but it was, I thought, a wonderfully close 
shave. 

Do you know. Header — my stumps all stir them- 
selves as I write ! — do you know that there are three 
hundred and forty-one dentists in London? — pro- 
fessed dentists, besides all those who belong to the 
medical profession, and draw teeth incidentally — ^three 
hundred and forty-one, which, according to recent 
regulations at the War-office, is only a few short 
of a battalion. Allowing a month's holiday, you 
might have a new London dentist every day for a 
year, and even then leave some out: all principals, 
too, and no assistants, but men with smiling con- 
fidence, supple wrists, immaculate linen — don t you 
always notice the shirt-front of your tormentor ? — and 
eas^-chairs. Oh, that half hour of anticipation in the 
waiting-room, when yon turn over medical books, and 



look at the prints and pictures on the walls, and feel 
a sort of savage sympathy for each victim as he is 
carried sway mmi the flocik and swallowed up in the 
inner den, where you may sometimes hear him shriek, 
but whence yon never see him return ! The outer 
door shuts after a quarter of an hour — those were his 
remains going out ! 

Then your own summons But why recall the 

vision of that shastly chamber? Only, I must say 
that I think the process to be sone tmough before 
yon have a sinxde tooth rsplacec^ is more extensive 
than need be. Whyshould he have the model of yoor 
whole jaw ? I see him now, making at me with a 
little shovel full of warm wax — I hope it is new for 
the occasion, but it looks rather mottled — a little 
shovel, with a i>at of wax about the shape and size of 
a penny bun, with a mouthful bitten out. 

' Impossible ! my good sir ! ' 

But ne pops it in, and squeeees it against the palate 
with such dioking adheroice that every gusuttoiy 
nerve 0oes into fito. We must forgive his consterna- 
tion, THien the subtle judge of sauoe and wine finds 
himself suddenly encountered by a pound of soft 
second-hand candlewax. 

I really think some other preparatory plan mig^t 
be devised. Couldn't they do it by photography? or 
under chloroform? or, better stilt with something 
nice ? As it is, hours must pass after the operation 
before you can gjBt rid of the peculiar cosmetio taste 
it leaves — some&ing like that you might expect if 
you dined with the Lord Mayor of Greenland, and 
sat between a tallow-chandler and a soap-merchimt. 
Three hundred and forty-one dentists in the London 
Poet-office Directory alcme, besides those more or less 
instructed about teeth, discoverable in the same 
volume— namely, one thousand eight hundred and 
ninety surgeons ! 

Just consider what an amount of caries, inarticula- 
tion, toothache, and ill-humour this represents. The 
preponderance of the profession is measured by 
comparing it with another — ^take hairdressers. You 
want your hair cut whether you be well or ill — for 
every tooth drawn or replaced you have your hair cut 
scores of times : for every dentist there ought to be 
fift/ of the others, but there are barely three. 

U is true that much, probably most of the dentists' 
work, is to supply, not to wiuidraw. Ta^e up the 
Times, and climb a ladder of dentists' advertisements : 
the extraction of teeth bears a small proportion to 
their replacement. The ofjeration is so graphically 
attractive, so painless, so ingenious, that I wonder 
people don't have it done for Measure. It would seem 
to be a luxurious gratification. Those who go to be 
shampooed, and have their joints cracked, will pre- 
sently have all their teeth drawn and put in a^ain, 
once a week — say on a Saturday, when they are tired. 

Seriously, however, the improvements in dental 
mechanism are perhaps the most ai>preciable signs of 
modem surgical progress that we possess. Compara- 
tively few enjoy the latest discoveries in cuttii^ off 
legs and the like, while almost all are worried about 
their teeth, at one time or another ; but now ' sans 
teeth ' will be no sicn of age to those who can afford 
to buy a new set. Health, comfort, appearance are 
alike unproved. It is no small matter to be able to 
procure a useful ornament and a wholesome luxury 
at one purchase. The demand for teeth is rapidly 
increasing. Immense numbers are made of a mine- 
ral compound. One wholesale dentist I know of 
employs more than ninety persons in manufactur- 
ing either tiiem or things pertaining to them. The 
daily tale of teeth there produced is more than 
a thousand. Teeth made of this material, how- 
ever, are liable to break, under some circumstances. 
Having mytf^ twice smashed some mineral pinders, 
my dentist said, looking at the fracture : * An, I see ; 
you must have some hippopotamus teeth ! ' Retaining 
I a vivid recoUestion of the effidot when that gentleman 



113 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



in the tank at tb« Zoolo^col Gardens lixiks out of 
the water, nud soiiles, 1 aaid, ' Ah '. ' rather dubioiuly. 
Bat he v/aa rijjbt. Many teeth are Biipjilied by the 
hippopotamos : mine aie excellent. I am given to 
understand that those irhich have done service 
already in aome native bamaa ekoll ore lees used than 
they were; hut one would think they must be the beat, 
after aUj if it were not for the idea of imperiect 



dental Bureery U their erpenge— at least where teeth 
have to be replaced. Young dentists, who want 

S-aotice, are happy to draw teeth io /irrmd pauperii. 
y an inveree application of the law, ' you must not 
look a gift-borse in the mouth,' the unhappy gratis 
patient who has had a molar broken off short half' 
way ill the process o£ abstraction, may be eipected, if 
not to thank his eiecutiaaer, at least to abstain from 
a personal aasaulL You may get your teeth dravm, 
every one, for oert to nothing, if not for nothinz 
itieu; but when gaps in the series have to be filled 
up, it is quite another tiling. At present, gold is 
required. Thus, the jioor man cannot avail hinmelf of 
the advance in dental mechanism. Lately, however, a 
new material has been discovered, called vulcanite — a 
preparation of india-rubber, which is so successful as 
probably to supersede gold. At present, it is expen- 
sive, but before long, must necessarily afford much 
cheaper reliei than the material now employed. It is 



irith gutta-percha ; and the best uE it is, if the 
dentists will permit me to say so, that it is capable 
of application by the patient MmBelf. Front-t«eth 
cannot be thus replaced : but snpposo a man has lost 
two or three of bis back ones, and cannot afford to 
have them lupplied by a ilentiat. I would advue him 
to act thus : Let Mm take a lump of gutta-percha 
[white is the best, b«;ause it is sweeter than the 
brown) about as big as a walnut. Warm it tLorouuhly 
in boiling water till it is aa soft as putt; ; ueii, 
putting it into his mouth, let him bite it well into 
the gap, and keep his teeth closed till the gutta- 
percha cools ; thia will oblige him to shut hia mouth 
for two or three minutes ; then let him open it 
carefully, and take the lump out; be has only to 
trim it dawn with his penknife, and he will be fitted 
with an excellent substitute for regular artificial ttwtb, 
which will serve him well for yeara. This is no 
theory, but a proved Cacti and I can only account for 
its not being more generally known and reaEsed, by 
its interference with the regular business of the 
profession. Forgive, dear reader, my entering into 
details ; but the presence of ]a(^ed stumps rather 
assists this operation than otherwise, for thoy steady 
the gutta-percha auperatructure. Already thia material 
is recognised as capable of a popular self .application 
in the matter of stopping teeth, for it is sold in small 
lumps about the size used for this purpose. The 
white, I repeat, is the Iwst and purest ; though cheap, 
it is much dearer than the dork material used for 
pimng and the soles of sboefl. 

Eventually, however, I have no doubt but that the 
new stuiF, vulcanite, will enable the poor man to 
recover so necessary an assistance to health as teeth 
are admitted to be. I remember the time when 
lucifers were a great curiosity. Once, distinctly, I 
recollect, when I was a little l»y. seeing a genUeman, 
who was inquisitive about the latest disfovetiea in 
science, take two or three lucifers out of a case. After 
his shewing and explaining tbem, it appeared that at 
the end of each mateh there was a small glass tube 
filled with some phosphoric compound, which on 
being crushed, produced a flame. This process was 
effected by nipping the end with a pair o£ pliers, 
carried in the pocket for the purpose. Altogether, it 
*r«D « ^...-.,1 k..t ........r a£»x..:< '..... k.....i.._.. -Ji -'>emed 



brimstone-matcfa. Ita chief drawback, however, nii 
its erjiensc. I forget what this genUemon said he hid 
given for the matehes he exhibited, but now you cu 
get two boxes for a half-penny. 

nMbably, before very kiDg, dental hospitals will be 
able to a^ord rehef to thu poor by means of the 
material lately discovered, and repUce. at a cbau 
rate, those necessary stones of the mill thnn^ 
which onr food must be passed before it can repleniii 
the wasting fabric of our frames. 



Bedford Las no pecnlinr indastrj. I asked a gentlemu 
whom I casually met i 'What was the staple of the tows'" 
and he answered : ' Bducntion,' The beqaeal of an *Mb- 
msn of liondon, in the reign of Edward VI., of thirwoi 
acres of land in the parish of St Andrews, Holbom. cur 
produces an annual income of L.]3,E00 ; and the chui^ 
iiaving come under parliamentarj regulation, supporti i 
Grammar School, a Commercial School, a Pi^antn; 
English echcol. a National School, a QiFhi' Scfaool, iM 
an Infant School. Bedford Giammar School fumida 
the bigbest education to its free scholars and boardoi; 
and families come to Bedford from all parts to qnsltff 
themtelTcs as naidcnts for its advantages. Thnsednoi- 
tion i,t the great staple here. But the other >cllOld^ 
where pupils are not qualified by classical instnitlisi 
to oblMn aniverMty eihibitions, fit a very large jiiTOlk 
popnlalion for the duties of life in a manner wluch il 
evident in the demeanour of the inhabitants of Bedfol 
No stranger con ask a question of man, woman, ordiS^ 
without feeling that he is jn the midat of an inteUigOl 
popnlation, very remarkable for their alertneas sad 
GOnrtesy, as compared with the industrial classes d 
most previncisi towns. Sir William Hnrpiit'g betlM>i 
'for the inelmctioii of the children of the tom <l 
Bedford in grammar and gaad-manuera,' has very mhtt 
results. — Companian to Ihe AlmaniK. 



THE MISSEL. THEC3H IN PEBEUART. 
ToEna ia a bird, a handsome speckled bird, 
Who fills our naked woods irith early song ; 
Whiln jet from trees the wintry drip is heard. 
Of miats condensed, that move the vale along ; 
Poiied high upon some patriarchal tree. 
Pull in the sun's pale yellow rays of spring, 
When silver dast the rime spreads on the lea. 
He Instily hie morning-song doth sing. 
First note of loye that wakes the infant year. 
The sleeping bads grow purple with delight ; 
And swelling, like his warbling throat, appaar 
To woo with him the beams of warmth and light 
As aome full-chested herald who proclalmn 
The advent of the noble and the fair, 
Ho doth announoo the earth's returning claims 
To admiration and renewM care. 
Ah ! happy time, full promised time of hope, 
Melodiona breaking of the dawn of love. 
When oyes upon mystcriaua beauties upe. 
That jet the seasons' cinic have to prove ; 
How fair and fleeting are the joys oE earth ; 
How close is spring to winter's cold decay ; 
How small and mean, with little sign of worth. 
The bud that holds the gajest flower of day 1 

CnAKUs Enc 



Printed and Pnhljslied by W. * R CnAHBtfiB, 47 pB^B^ 
Dostcr Row, LoHDOH, and 339 High Street, EdinbuMI. 
Also sold by WiLLlJiM Robertson. ^ Upper Saokvilk 
Street, DcBLiN, and all BookscUen. 




S tit net anb ^rls. 



CONDUCTED BT WILLIAM AND ROBERT CHAMBERS. 



No. 373. 



SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 23, 1861. 



Price 1^. 



POKING THE FIRE. 

NoTBiSQ can be more irritating than the feeble, 
incomplete way in which some people poke their firea. 
I cannot bear to look at them. But I don't know 
iirliich is worse, the indecisive ' potter/ or the ignorant, 
inartiHtic 'smash' which batters down the pregnant 
csovering of caked coal into a black confusion, letting 
the precious materials of a blaze escape unignited up 
ihe chimney. 

To stir a fire perfectly^ requires the touch of a 
■cnlptor, the eye of an architect, and the wrist of a 
dentist. I never saw it done thoroughly weU above a 
doien times in my life ; and though there are approxi- 
mations, more or less distant, within the reach of 
ovdxnary men, do not suppose that the process is a 
ample one, capable of being performed in a single 
operation. 

There ia the tap, when the fire has eaten into the 
heart of a big, upper boulder-coal, and its opening 
diinks require but a slight shock to part, and let the 
imprisoned flame spring forth. There is the lift, when 
the poker acts as a lever to the crust, and lets the 
rich loosened fragments drop into the red-hot cavern. 
There is the stir universal, when the mass has been 
left too long, and requires a thorough mixing. There 
is the ventilating poke, when the roof of the fabric 
has fallen heavily in, and the struggling flame has 
hardly power enough to overcome the incumbent 
mass. In this case, the poker must be moved slowly, 
and left for a minute between the bars after the move- 
ment has been made. In contrast to all this is the 
procedure of the fairer part of creation — the varium et 
mutahile — as epitomised in the noted definition of an 
Irish arolibishop : ' woman, a creature who does not 
reason, and who poikea the fire from the top,^ A truth, 
no doubt, but a partial one ; for, reader, have you not 
seen male animftla also commit this fearful outrage on 
the lares of the hearth ? 

Then there are side-pokes, and indeed many varie- 
ties of treatment adapted to the state of the patient : 
for a fire is a living friend, though a capricious one, 
and must be managed with respect and affection. A 
friend, ay ! Does he not glance a bright welcome when 
yoQ enter your room of a morning ? Is he not glad 
and merry when you come home ? Does he not wink 
at yon out of the window, when you mount the door- 
step ? Is he not quiet and considerate in your study 
or sick-chamber? If you are dreamy, and sit witii 
feet on lender, does he not sympathise with you, 
building &iry grottos, and peopling them with fan- 
tufeio ahapes, to suit and soothe your mood ? A friend ! 
I abonld think so. He is kind even when you turn 
jonr bsek upon him. But I grieve to see the unfeeling 



way he is often treated after months of closest inti- 
macy. You have sat by his side; you have talked 
with him by the hour together ; you have held your 
hands over him, as if you blessed him; you have 
looked into his heart through all the dull dead winter, 
and found it ever warm ; and then, when fickle, gaudy 
summer comes, and the sun peers into the room, 
catching the fire's eye with an insulting stare, is it to 
be wondered at if he sometimes slips out in the sulks ? 
You should have humoured him a little — drawn down 
the blind, and not left him alone to eat his heart up 
in neglect. 

Putting on coals, too, is a delicate process. A 
good healthy fire does not much mind a heavy meal, 
but a dyspeptic requires to be fed with caution. 
The surest way, though a slow one, is to take up 
a lump at a time, in the tongs, and build a loose cairn 
above the feeble blaze. How quickly the flames search 
the black interstices, and change the dead mass into a 
pyramid of life ! It is marvellous how soon a coy 
spark may be thus coaxed into a steady unequivocal 
fire. CoaJs ought not to be very big, but about the 
size of potatoes — the smaller ones choke and stunt 
the natural progress of the flame. 

I do not wonder at the freedom of the grate 
being made a test of friendship. You cannot trust 
an acquaintance to touch your fire. It is not only 
impertinent, but often unfeeling in him to attempt 
it. A hearth is a sacred place. Nothing accoimts 
more easily for the absence of domesticity among 
many foreigners, than their want of open grates. 
That can hardly be a home which is warmed 
by an invisible fire in the bowels of a great dead- 
looking stove. It is not worth protecting. Who 
would die fighting for an Amott? No, no— the 
successive and contradictory advertisements of patent 
stoves, assure me that the Briton has not yet accom- 
modated himself to so unconstitutional a machine. 
He cannot find any to suit him, and I humbly trust 
he never wilL Wood-fires are better than stoves; 
they can be poked — indeed, properly managed, they 
emit an excellent warmth, and crackle welL 

But about the right way of burning logs. Piling 
them up is simple enough, and a right genial hearty 
act it is; but many miss the power of a wood-fire 
by having the ashes frequently cleared away. Leave 
them there — let them accumulate for a week ; then, 
if you will, keep them within bounds ; but let there 
be always a mound or bed on which the log may lie. 
They warm a room well ; indeed, they never go quite 
out, though they look white and cold by early day- 
light. Some time ago, when staying at Rome, the 
frost was very sharp, and we had large wood-firea. 
Dominico, our man, never cleared the ashes away. 



Ui 



CHAMBEBS'8 JOURNAL. 



The fitat thing in tbo morning, be QBed to otick a 
number of cone* into &b uh-henp, and, lo J in s few 
miiiuteB there was a bright blaze. All the aaaocia- 
tioos, too, of a wood-fire are pleasant ; there ii the 
riving of lora with wedges — woric for the brun of a 
matl^iDatictaii. as well aa ezercise for bis body ; 
re is the picking up of odd bits oF stidu in the 
plantation, saying, ' Then;, that will do for the fire,' 
and theauomiDg inand feeding ityourself. There iia 

EroaperoUB look about a woodstacli. and well-stored 
aaktt of sawn billets in the comer of the room. 
Thesis msittinals, indeed, ore more '^easin^ than the 
best double-screened Wallsend. There is nothing 
hearty in the appearance of a cool-hole. 
I cannot bear p-'^-'--' "- ■■ - " 

kept lire, but the ends of the tools should be Mock. 
Never stuff up the grate wiUi ornaments ; hang some- 
thing in front, if you will, bat have the fire always 
laid. Then, on a wet, chilly, July eveniiu, yon can 
indulge the sudden hunger for a blaze, by the aid of ■ 
lucifer. at once. But the poker itself — what an apt, 
multifarious piece of furniture t Not ouiy has it a 
normal a[)hurti and use of its own, for wtuch. by the 
~~ -; it should not be made too blunt at the point, but 

. a test of physical power and manual dexterity. 

h and BUcL a man, we boor, can break a poker on 
his ana. or bend it round his neck. In this there is 
only the appeal to common experience, for who — 
wbat Englishman at least— is Ignorant of a poker! but 
a pleBflont vision of the feat. We behold the lire 
round which the athletes sit. over their wine ; we hear 
conversation stray to deeds of prowess ; we see 
the ready means of iUustnition present on the spot — 
the e7ctem[>orised performance. Then, too, what a 
ready weapon of offence or defence is supplied in the 
poker ! What more handy? It ia a national inatm- 
ment — the BritiBh poker. When the Yorkshire juir 
Hcquitted tbe man who knocked down his wife wim 
it, giving in their verdict, * Sarved ber light 1 ' depend 
upon it, DC would have been hanged if he hod done it 
with the tongs. I wonder whether he was the man 
who iiimrrolled. with his spouse about the right way of 
stirring the tire. Tbey had been separatHl on this 
account by mutual consent ; their friends, however, 
having brought them together again, they began talk. 
ing, as tbey sat by their hearth, on the first evening 
after their reconciliation, about the folly of falling out 
n so small a matter, when the tady said : ' Foolish, 
indeed, my dear, especially as / was right oil the 



THE VICTORIA BBIDGR 

Piw home-staying Britons are aware, that tiay 
[lESesB in North America a territory amounting 
> nearly a ninth part oE the land-surface of the 
globe, permeated by the finest system of natural 
iter-coinmunication that ciists ; or that in Canoda, 
B of the provinces of this great region, and the 
it of a new immigrant population of only three 
ndlUnna, there ia a system of canals equally nnex- 
lunplad, viUi one railway twelve hundred miles 
long, besides about eight hundred miles of other 
railwaya, being, in all, equal to a fourth port of the 
whole railway communication of wealthy and biuy 
England berseU. So ra[nd, indeed, has been the 
progress of Canada, that when on Englishman hap- 
pens to visit ber shorn, he is usually in no small 
degree surprised by what meets his gaze. He sees 
with equal wonder and gratification such goodly 
cities as Montreal and Toronto, He finds justice 
Bed in halls for eiccediag those of Westminster 
both as to space and elegance. He finds Icaming 
cultivated with dignity as well aa diligence in superb 



and liberally endowed colleges, of which thst d 
Toronto is an especially noble example. He fiidi 
also in that oity the central office of a moat aScUtit 
■yrtem of juvenile education, on non-sectariaa prm. 
ciplea, which mokes him aigh to think tlutt no Micli 
institution can yet be realised st home ; and if hi 
mingles in aocie^ in these remote regions, he discom 
that the elegances, the culture, and the enjoymoA 
to which ha may have been accustomed at home, an 
not wanting. 

Foremost among the wonders of Canada must U 
reckoned the great public work tbe name of whidi 
stands at the head of this pa[tcr. There have bMt 
many eighth wonders of tbe world, but none, it mq 
dehberstelf be Said, at all comparable to this. Spa- 
cing tbe St Lawrence at Montreal, tbe Victoria Bndgi 
forms a necessary part of the main line of raihnj 
communication by which the prodoce of the intcmt ■ 
brought to the porta of tbe Atlantic The meed n* 
readily to be seea and admitted ; if there vros to bsa 
railway communication at all — and the froicen stats d 
the water-communications for half the year made tt* 
sufficiently desirable — then a viaduct over that gnad 
river became clearly indispensable. Bnt tbe St Lav- 
rence is a rapid stream, twenty feet deep, and abors t 
mile in width, whose channel becomes so choked wilk 
ice in winter, as to seem to make engineering wtdi 
impossible. To contemplate such an nndettdn| 
required a scope and hardihood of imagination beyad 
all parallcL Nevertheless, the idea was formed bf 
a citizeD of Montreal so long ago as IS46,* and ii 
December 185!) the first train passed over the sctnt 



Tbe writer has seldom been so impressed b; uf 
outward thing, aa by the first sight he obtained i 
this bridge from the hill behind Montreal, in Octob* 
1860. He visited and inspected it next day, in cat' 
pony with several gentlemen of tbe district, ud 
found his impressions only deepened by the neir 
view. It is not that there is anything pictnresqna or 
fine in the Btructorc : its features are, on the contnuj, 
of a simply mechanical character. It is the «■"■ and 
purpose of t^e work which create a sense of sublimity. 
One haa to drive upwards of a mile out of Montiol 
to the station, whence proceeds in one direotiaii tks 
Great Trunk Railway of Canada, while in the oOs 
appears the Victoria Bridge, by which the coatiniMd 
line is carried on to PortliiDd in Mame. The fabrio 
consists of twenty -four piers, rising sixty feet above ti» 
water, with inbervala of 34'2 feet in all inatancei tot 
one in the centre, which ia 330 feet; the upper end of 
each pier being in a sloping form, to meet the dangenm 
masses of ice which pour down tbe stream in winbK 
Along the tops of the picra is laid a quadrajngnltf 
tube of ijlntc-irou, 16 feet in breadth, and riaingno* 
IS feet 6 inches at the extremitiea, to S2 feet m Aa 
centre in height ; this tube, of course, containing tte 
carriage-track. Such— with abutments at tbe eitr*- 
mities — ore the simple elements of t^ otnietnn; 
but when we walk into the tube, we find tlutt **>f* k 
composed of pieces, one of which crosses the gnat 
ceutral span, while each of tbe others croBsoa thmi^ 
two of the other intervals, a small vacant KMt 
being left at the extremity of each, to allow cnAs 
expansion and contracIioD arising from variatiiM 



On arriving at the opening of the tube freoa ths 

.mlnmllf out in ifa. BrtUih colonlH. la nniHqii^c* at Ikt 
grnrlif of * nen mmtrj, and thi sitmne UbenUtj of tt* 
ibIu InMinaoni. 



CHAMBERS^ JOURNAL. 



115 



Montreal side of the rirer, one finds it masked wiili 
stonework of E^i^tian massiTeness, including a lintel, 
on which is inscribed — 'Ebectkd a.d. mdccclix: 
Robert Stephenson and Alexander M. Boss, 
Engineers.' It was melandioly to reflect that already 
the first of these men was no more, while the secona 
waB represented as so thoron^y broken down in 
iiealth, as to be, for the present, sequestered from 
iie world. We walked in to about the centre, where 
in opening and a ladder enabled us to get upon the 
x>p, so as to survey freely this marveUons fabric, 
ind its surroundings. Everything seemed severely 
(imple, yet perfectly adapted to its purpose. A side- 
>pening, in like manner, enabled us to observe the form 
ind structure of the piers. Then the w(»d was given 
hat a train was approaching from the south end, and 
t was necessary to stand aside, and allow it to pass. 
>ur party followed the example set by a few work- 
oen near us, and ranged themsielves close to the plates 
onning the side of the tube, between which and the 
ail-track only a space of about two feet intervenes. 
)n came the huge noisy object, looking as if it would 
weep us all into destruction — it was impossible, with 
he utmost faith in what we were told of safety, to 
epress some Uttle tr^nors. Certainly any sudden f aint- 
1688 at such a moment mioht have been attended wiUi 
stal results, for nothing l)ut an erect position could 
ave us. The blinding and deafening mass passed in 
b8 undefined lineaments close to our faces, and I 
xjperienced, though I did not express, a feeling of 
enef when we again saw the empty tube before us, 
ad observed the train wheeling quietly out into the 
i^^ at the north end. As to the imperfect light 
n.thin, this is obtained through round holes pierced 
.t intervals in the side platM, at the places where 
heir weakening effect is least felt 

It having b^n determined, in 1852, that the St 
!jawrence snould be bridged by a metal tube after the 
tyle of the Britannia Bridge over the Menai Strait, 
t was but light and fittioff that the aid ci Mr Robert 
HM^ienson should be ca&ed in by the projectors; 
Old this eminent man, accordingly, visited the spot in 
he fftnwiing year. It is admitted, however, on {dl hands, 
hat the hiudest part of the busioess of engineering 
wm borne by Mr Rosa. On the plan being perfected, a 
[xrodi^ous system of labour for its working out was 
)rganiaed by Mr James Hodges, as representing the 
xmtractora, for whom he had executed several of 
bhe most extensive works in England. It comprised 
150 quanymen, shipping to the extent of 12,000 tons, 
nannfid by 500 sauors, and 2090 workmen of otiier 
lescriptions, exclusive of those required for the pre- 
paration of the tube, which was executed piecemeal 
n England. The work was commenced in January 
1854, when the surface of the river was composed of 
i deep pack of ice fragments, thickly coated over, as 
inial, b^ a newly frozen sheet On this firm surface, 
I pecmliar piece of wooden framework, called a cr3>, 
mm formed and sunk, such being a necessary prepa- 
vlive to the forming of a coffer-dam in which to 
a(y the foundations of the first pier. 

In the course of the summer and autumn, two 
iofiiBr-dams had been formed, and in one of them a 
ner had been built. Great fears were entertained as 
10 the effects of the winter's ice on these fabrics ; and 
•ha two dams did actually give way on the 4th of 
rannary 1855, when the pack of ice broke up. The 
Mscumolation had been going on for four days, until 
ihe river had risen high above its usual level, and lay 
Q a widely extended sheet over the adjacent country. 
At leoffth,' to pursue a narration which we owe to 
At Hodges, ' some slk;ht sympt(»ns of motion were 
nunbla The universaf stillness which prevailed was 
atemmted by an occasional creaking, and every one 
treftthle«l^ awaited the result, straining every nerve 
o afloertam if tiie movement was general The 
ikoertainty lasted but a short period ; for in a few 
xboaitei t£e uproar arising from the rushing waters, 



the cracking, grinding, and shoving of the fields of 
ice, burst on our ears. The sight of twenty square 
miles (over 120,000,000 tons) of packed ice (which 
but a few minutes before seem^ as a lake of solid 
rock), all in motion, presented a scene grand beyond 
description. The traveller-frames, and No. 2 *1awi^ 
clidedfor a distance of some hundred yards without 
having a joint of their framework broken. But as 
the movement of the ice became more rapid, and the 
fearful noises increased, these tall frameworks appeared 
to become animate ; and after performing some three 
or four evolutions like huce giante in a w^altz, they 
were swallowed up, and reduc^ to a shapeless mass 
of crushed fragments. After gazing at tnis marvel- 
lous scene in silence, till it was evident that the 
heaviest of the shoving was over, all those in the 
transit tower, from which it had been witnessed, 
began to inquire how the solitary pier No. 1, which 
had been battling alone amid this chaos, had escaped. 
Although some affected to entertain no fear, the 
author confesses, for lus own part, to have felt infi- 
nitely relieved when, upon lookmc through the transit 
instrument, he discovered that tne pier nad not been 
disturbed.** 

It was against .difficulties and dancers like these, 
and in the narrow intervals of time wnen the nature 
of the climate permitted men to work, that the 
masonry of the Victoria Bridge proceeded. Mean- 
while, the preparation of the plates required for the 
tubes proceeded at the Canada Works in Birkenhead. 
This branch of the work was one of great nicety, for 
every part of the tube required its own degree of 
strengtn, according to the strain and the compression 
which it was called upon to bear. A plan or map of 
each tube was made, upon which was shewn each 
plate, T-bar, angle-iron, keelson, and cover-plate, 
required in the different situations, with the position 
of each marked by a distinctive character or figure. 
As the work advanced, * every piece of iron as it was 
punched and finished for shipment, was stamped with 
the identical mark corresponding with that on the 
plan ; so that when being erected in Canada, although 
each tube was composed of 4926 pieces, or 9852 for a 
pair, the workmen, beinc provided with a plan of the 
work, were enabled to lay down piece by piece with 
unerring certainty till the tube was complete.'+ 

In the business of the masonry, great pndsc was 
due by the sub-contractor, Mr Chaffey, for certain 
remarkable contrivances by which the transport of 
the stones was greatly facilitated. At St Lambert, 
' a stock of material, amounting to at least 10,000 tons, 
was to be accumulated and placed in such position in 
the stone-field, prior to the commencement of the 
masonry, as to admit of each distinct course beinp 
kept separate, and readily accessible when required 
To effect this, a steam-traveller sixty-six feet in length, 
placed on a ^anty-frame raised twenty feet frotn the 
ground, and extending about six hundred feet in 
length, was constructed. The boiler and engine weie 
attached to the Jennie, and traversed latenJly along 
the traveller, being provided at the same time with a 
gearing to admit of a motion being communicated to 
the traveller, driving it from one end of the staging 
to the other. With this machinery, worked by one 
intelligent hov,. a train of cars, loaded with tiio 
heaviest blocks of stone, could be moved on the 
railway-track, underneath, backwards and forwards, 
as required, and the stones taken up and deposited 
together, according to the courses they were intended 
for. We have frequently seen this extraordinaiy 
automaton at work, with three of its six distinct 
movements going on at one time. Thus, a block of 
limestone, weighing perhaps eight tons, would be 
taken from a car, and while in me process of being 

* Hodget't Cbnstrvetion of the Tictona Sridpe. London, I860. 
This is A superbly illustrated work, mainly designed for the 
instruction of the profession. 

tHodges, 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



tup of a vile some iSstaoce further on, and at the side 
of the lieJd, the lateral motioD was cairyiiig it aide- 
wnys. and the whole mnehiue iDoviag in Uie direction 
of the pile at the rate of four mile* no houc ; which 
point reached, and the stone aofely depoaitcd. the 
three motions were inatsntaneously reveraed, and the 
troFellcr bronght liack to the cor for a necond load, to 
be conveyed perhaps in an entirely diiferent direc- 

Tbe work was completed nt the cloae of 1869, and 
tested in the most unmerciful manoer hy the pasnag 
of a train of platform cars, five hundred and twenty 
feet in lengtli, loaded with stone to the utmost, when 
even the central and longest tube was found to be 
deflected t« an extent of less than two inches. It 
needed but this fact to perfect the glory of a work 
which promises to be an enduring monuineiit of British 
skill, enterprise, and peiseverance. 



THE FAMILY SCAPBGEACE. 

After breakfast, Lucidora was despatched to 
Mr Sunstroke, to acqnaint him of the treasure that 
awaited his inspection at his photographic rooms — 
for the apartments occupied by Mr and Mra Jones 
were liia, and hod been fitted up, as we bate seen, 
with an eye to art purpoBos rather than to domeBtic 
couTenience- Better, however, is any tinfumiahed 
residence, gratis, than the most stately dwelling- 
place and rent therewith; and the two models lived 
cheaply and contentedly in their gbisa-house — 
throwing no stones at otiiom, wo will hope— and 
were evea enabled to accommodate a yoong friend in 
addition, as we have seen. Their home and their phieo 
of business were thus conveniently amalgamated. 
From sunset until after breakfast, all was domeaticity 
and private life ; but in the daytime, the nuptial- 
chamber was devoted to collodion and the black 
art, and the larger room bccaoje a theatre for 
CableaiLc. 

Those outdoor picnica, ao redolent of the leafy 
summer-time, with which the atereoscopo has made 
ua so familiar, all had their origin in that art-attic 
over the Haymarket. There, couched at ease upon 
greeu baize, and nnder the shade of canvas woods, 
those July revellen hold their pasteboard feasts, no 
matter what the weather or the aeasoo. There, loo. 
was temporarily reared the lung-drawn aisle and 
fretted vault of that well-known cathedral— which 
has drawn many a tear from the impressionable 
medieval eye, stereoBoopioally deceived— wherein those 
white-robed choriBicts (at one-and-sii) are swinging 
censera, with bowed head, before their bishop. And 

re, above all, those classical statues, with which 
are so well acgiutinted, more lifelike than the 

atest triumphs of Grecian art, reversed the miracle 
of Pygmalion, and turned from floah and blood to 

In auch a very slight flosh-colonred garment, that 
the wearer felt excesaively alarmed leat Mra Jones 
should re-eater the a[)artment before he changed it, 
the compliont Dick was now regarding himself in the 
' g basin. Aroimd his brow was a wreath of water- 
lilies made of green and white eottoa, which bobbed 
nlKiut his face, and tickled him like a night-cap witli 
a too liu:uriant crop of tasapla. A pieoo of blue cahoo 
was looped about him, much as a window- curtain is 

' L(n*'i aimiet al thi Ficlena BHdgi. Himtreal, ISCD (p. IM). 



festooned to right or left ; while into his connteaaoct || 
was thrown as vivid an expression of aclf-admiratiin | 
as hia sense of the lowncsa of the temperature lad D 
the falscnesa of his own position would permit the 
lad to assume. 

' A little more forward, if yon please, Nardn^' 
observed Mr Jones, who was in charge of the caiiBBi 
' not so much as that, though ; thank you. Doit 
laugh, whatever you do. or you'll be a dreidU 
object. Good Heavens '. wliat are you BCTatebni 
your ear for ! Pooh, pooh, a model must uaver iUI 
Couldn't you stand on one 1^ for a Lttle, in dixU 
give a lightness to the attitude ?' 

' Not without timibling into the basin,' rejciiHl 
Dick ; ' I couldn't, indeed 

' Ah, well, we will try that afterwards, then ; it 
will not look ill aa a specimen of an instantaMOB 

■ I say, you mustn't wink your eyes, NaiciMMi 

you must ataro steadily and fondly upon the wato; 
please— — - That's not a bad notion, though, I «■ 
going to say, for Sappho throwiue heraeu off Ik 
Lesbian rock into the sea. Mra T.— Mm Joiic^ 1 
mean— shall be Sappho, only it will spoil her clotka 
a good deal, uutess she does it in a bathtng-gawi; 
and you sbidl be Fhaon. Now, you must not nKm 
a hairsbreodth, Dick, for the photograph ii jpl 
going to be taken ; but don't hold your brerta • 
much, or you will be purple, and there is M 
knowing what queer colour that may turn to mfli 
photograph. 

In a couple of minutes. Narcissus the original VM 
permitted to re-asaume his lesa classical gaUMBlt 
and Narcissus the cmiy was lying in the dark chlB- 
her, steei>ed in an offensive preparation. | 

' You did it capitally,' observed Mr Jones vitk I 
triumph, ' and now it only remains to name yiw 1 
rewara. Shall It be beer and tobacco, or ahall M I 
go to the Zoological Gardens ?' I 

'Neither, thank you,' replied Dick, 'just now- I 
ahould prefer, if you don't mind- although yoalum 
forborne to inquire into my own recent histoty— 1> 
learn why it is yuu sometimes Call Mrs JonM^Uii 
T.r 

For a moment, the photographee looked a litSl 
annoyed, but immediately recovering bis gooir 
humour, observed : ' With all my heart, lad, for jw 
are sure to know it aome day, sooner or later. Coot 
and sit down by the fire, and listen to the history d 
one who haa been neglected by hia tas ; and dnv 
the corks of that couple of botUes before we begin 
Dick, for I hate to he interrupted by noise. Wnm 
I went almut the conntry with a couple of big candlM 
and n Shakapcare, giving tliat admiiAble. oonrse cf 
readings from the immortal bard, of which it wis 

'uatly remarked hy the LamTa End Thimdtrec 

tut there. I daresay, you never beard of them. Wdl, 
rhen I went about elevating the masaea hy the lam' 
f Dramatic }l3ocution. I always began the ent»tM&- 
ment hy a disaertatioa againai noiau,' 

By this time the liecr was drawn and emptied btD 
a huge 'pewter.' into which the CUsncal llodd, 
having dipped bis features, and emerged from 'iat 
foam thereof after the manner of pytheresLD VenN^ 
commenced as follows : 

' If Locke's theory be nDteoablc, and one balij bs 
really brouf^ht into the world with insUnoto anS 
characteristics differing from those of another baby, 
it is certain that the mdividunl who now addnMM 
you was bom a gentleman. I was n precioua hi^ 
ehnp in my notions from my very cradle, and I ^d 
always be a precious high chap until I die. It *■■ 
therefore monstrously inconaistont o£ Nature, haviif 
thus endowed me with qiiaLties only bolitting •« 
ixalted station, to permit my father to be the pro- 
,itietor of an inconaiderable eating-house in Wbite- 
ehapel : and whatever griefs I have Bince come to — 
and they have been nuinerous-_I have Attdbutoi 



OHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



117 



thiiJL, with jnatice^ to Nature only.- It may 
ly imagined that my poor parent — a ggood 
man in his line, which was, however, mainly 
i to mutton-pies and sheep^s trotters, with a 
ing of a sfngnlar viand denominated Chitter- 
be origin and nature of which are shrouded in 
V — ^was quite unable to amnredate the boon 
had been conferred upon mm in an offifpring 
8 msrsell But my mother — ah, my mother! 
(r Jones app«ired to be overcome with emotion, 
ce more buried his face for an extraordinary 
of time in the pewter] tiiat old lady was a 
trump, and that s all aiMmt it.' 
* murmured Dick in a symxMithetic voice, 
I just like my mother.' 

11, 1 cut away from the tripe business, and my 
' brought me back SAain, wod then I cut away 
Then I went to school, and out away from 
Then I was bound apprentice to a sigQ-painter 
had always a yeammg towards the Fine Arts 
r cut away from him. And at last, when I had 
rial, in short, of most things that a lad might 
terra firma^ I cut away from ihaty and went to 
iy connections, generally, were of a narrow 
tf mind, and dicm't appreciate me. When I 
lite yoimg, they only shook their heads, and 
ed, liiat, " after all, I was nobody's enemy but 
a." But when I grew older, and wanted a little 
from them now and then to start afresh, then 
le iheir enemy, and they shut their doors against 
icidently with their pockets. When I returned 
to Whitecbapel from my first voya^ my 
iras very far from killing a fatted calf m hon- 
that event : if it hadn't been for my mother, 
^ I should have had nothi^ for supper that 
except cold chitterlings. He even expressed 
\ ss owing Nature a grudge for having presented 
til such a son, whereas, as I have demonstrated, 
ievance lay precisely the other way ; whUe, in 
ton, he gave it as his opinion that I was 
\ less thim a "black sheep" — ^his very meta- 
foa perceive, being drawn irom those snambles 
\ he procured the raw material for the canying 
lis ignoble profession. In Encland, said he, 
ras no pasturage, he thanked Heaven, proper 
^ of that sort, but there was a portion of 
obe recently discovered, especially adapted, 
it seemed to some, providentiaUv designeo, for 
oommodation and sustenance of Black Sheep 
efy, Australia. If I was content to be exportea 
; he would pay my passage; if I was not 
lliere was a certain choleric vulgarity, in 
shout my respectable parent — attributable, in 
egree, as I have always endeavoured to hope, 
over-attachment to pigs' puddinss— that led 
hi language which, from respect to nis memory, 
lot repeat 

ung, however, to act a dutiful part, and being 
ttrely unprovided with the means for carrying 
omestic war, I acceded to the parental terms, 
trked for the Antipodes, and was accompanied 
ird the Betsey Jane by my father Imnself, 
td to that step by ardent affection, doubtless, 
3 desire of bidding me farewell, but also by the 
ig suspicion that I might otherwise spend my 
s-money more agreeably than in maritime travel 
ip was but a small one for so long a voyage, 
t well officered ; the watches, particularly at 
being very ill kept. My bertii was so small, 
ben we reached the Tropics it grew unbearable, 
len it was fair, I used to lie on deck instead of 
with only the stars above me. 
particularly still and solemn night, when I 
i to take up my (quarters dose beside the 
lan, J felt as disinclined for sleep as for 
n. I lay in a torpid state with my eyes 
Mit witi^ my senses partially shut, and with 
oughts occupied indeed, yet not under my 



control, but wandering at their own wondrous will 
in the jmst and in the future, to the annihilation 
of time and space. The only soimds that broke the 
universal silence which reused over sky and sea, 
were the turning of the wheel beside me, and the 
clanking of the rudder-chains, at first at irregular 
intervals, and with more or less of violence, but pre- 
sently becoming quite monotonous; for the helms- 
man had fallen asleep, and 1^ that indifferent vessel, 
the BeUey Jane, entirely to her own devices. Then 
the heavens grew cloudy, and the stars dimmer and 
dimmer, and the wind began to rise ; and still I lay 
with my Uuo& skyward, conscious but unconcerned. 

All of a sudden, there loomed something monstrous 
far above my face, shutting out the douds from my 
sight, and I heard a noise other than that of the 
rippling of the waves about our stem — it was the 
sound which the cut- water of a vessd makes in a 
freshening breeze. In half a second, I became fully 
conscious that the bowsprit of some huee ship was 
passing over us, and that in another half-second the 
netaey Jane would be run down with all her crew 
complete. Casting my cloak from off me, I leaped at 
the rigging which hung about the mighty beam, and 
thereby managed to dimb up on it, and tiience, with 
cautious trepioation, like a cat in walnut shells upon 
the ice, on to the forecastle of the stranger. When I 
had reached so far, the Betsey Jane was not to be 
seen. She had not been run down, for I had not 
fdt the slightest shock, but had escaped by the skin 
of her teeth, and with the loss of one of her most 
respectable passengers. 

1 was not at all surprised, after what had happened, 
to find the look-out man of the stranger also asleep at 
his post ; but it did disgust me, when I woke him for 
the purpose of explainmg the circumstances, to see 
him throw up his arms with a great shriek, and run 
bdow, exclaiming that the devil was on the forecastle ; 
thou^ if the uiing had happened in these stereo- 
scopic days, there might have been some foundation 
for the libeL As it chanced, I had got on board an 
Australian vessel bound for the London Docks, where 
I presently arrived, after a six months' sea-voyage 
almost unprecedent^ in the bazrenness of its results. 
My reception in Whitecbapel, as may be eadly 
imagined, was not enthusiastic; but, on the other 
hand, I arrived just in time to reodve the bequest of 
the travelling wild-beast show from my maternal 
uncle ; it goes about the country under my name until 
this day ; but as you are aware, I did not long remain 
its proprietor. The position was not, perhaps, of a 
sufficiently gentlemanlike character to smt my aspiring 
nature. You would have liked it, would you, Dick ? 
Perhaps so: I have often regretted, myself, that I 
should have been bom so precious high. The very 
same thing occurred when I subsequenSy took up the 
dog-trade. A puppy's tail, Dick, take my word for it, 
is not a moutnful for a gentleman ; and yet, unless 
they are bitten off, ** the Fancy " will not have them 
at any price. I daresay I had eaten many a one in 
my respected papa's pies ; but then the coolung makes 
such a deal of difference. That good man died at the 
very period when I failed in aogs— a circumstance 
which redounds to his credit as a man and a father — 
and paid the debt of nature just in time to enable me 
to settle with my creditors. My poor mother was not 
left quite so well provided for as might have been 
expected — for my father's will, it seems, had always 
been in my favour, although his way had sometimes 
been so unpleasant — and she therefore very wisdy 
determined to take a situation as — as — as housekeeper 
in a gentleman's family ; and I am bound to say that 
she has been of considerable use to me while in that 
position.' 

'Is it Mrs Trimming?' asked Dick with some 
hesitation. 

* That is the very party,' observed Mr Jones, * and 
a very nice old party die is. It was thought that 



118 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



li 



( t 



I 

1 1 

I 
f ' 



your roBpected unde mijg^t haye a prmndioe about 
her being the mother ot such a What shall I 

•ay?' 

* Such a precious high chap,* suggested Dick with 

gravity. 

'Just so/ returned Mr Jones; 'and therefore we 
have kept the connection dark, as far as he is con- 
oemed.' 

* And Mrs Jones beinc your wife, that is why you 
call her Mrs T.,' observ^ Dick. 

* Well, the fact is, she is, and she isn't,' returned 
the photographee, revisiting the tankard. ' My mother 
don^ Imow about it, you see ; she has her prejudices 
— I find so many people have about so many things — 
and so I keep that diurk too. But, hark! I near Luci- 
dora's footsteps upon the stairs, and, if I mistake not, 
that of our proprietor also.' 

As he finished speakinff, Mrs Jones entered the 
room, accompanied by Mr Sunstroke, a little old man 
with an immense pair of gray moustaches. He was 
always stroking and petting these, as thou^ to keep 
them in good-humour, and dissuade them m>m flying 
away wim him — a proceeding for which they looked 
admirably adapted — and he stood now in the doorway 
with one of tnem in each hand, and with his head 
yery much on one side, regarding Dick with his keen, 
critical eyes, as tiioush the lad were some object of 
vertA, of which he had been offered the first refusal 

' I don't like that Uttle mole on his left cheek,' 
observed the photographer, after a prolonged investi- 
gation. 

* Ah, that *s where I differ from you ! ' returned Mr 
Jones witii coolness. * Without that mole, he would 
be commonplace enough, perhaps ; but with it — ^bcing 
as it is, a beauty rather than a blemish, too — he 
becomes uni(|ue at once.' 

' Yes,' replied the artist drily, 'so unique that every- 
body must needs know him again, and he will only 
serve us for one poae. The public can't be expected 
to believe that Hyacinth, Ganjrmede, Narcissus, and 
the whole army of mythological youth, were all distin- 
^[uished by a mole upon their left checks, you know : 
it 's quite ridiculous. 

' Suppose,' suggested Mr Jones sardonically, ' that 
you sometimes took his right profile instead of his 

'There's something in thcU^ assented the little 
artist candidly ; ' and the young fellow is not alto- 
gether without expression, I must confess.' 

Dick, indeed, was looking volumes of astonishment, 
as well he might, while this question of his personal 
valuation was being settled, and felt much reheved 
when the bargain was concluded, and he found himself 
pledged to giv6 some half-a-dozen 'sittings' to Mr 
Sunstroke — although he never sat except in that 
celebrated pose of the 'Boy Extracting a Thorn' — at 
thirty shillmgs for the single figure, and a pound for 
one of a croup; one half of which remuneration was 
to go to Mr Jones, in return for food and lodgment. 

'Well,' observed the artist, when these terms had 
been finally arranced, ' I should have come up here 
this morning at all events, independently of our classi- 
cal young fnend. I have gone into a new line since I 
was with you yesterday morning. The stereoscopic 
business is extending, my friends — ^is ramifying. You 
remember that prison-tour of ours. Trimming, last 
summer, wherein we photographed about five hundred 
as ill-looking scoundrels as the sim ever shone upon, 
in order that justice mi^t keep mementos of tneir 
visit — duplicates of their expressive physiognomies. 
Well, I was sent for special, by the pouoe, laist after- 
noon, to do another job for them. It has been deter- 
mined, it seems, in the cose of all unclaimed How- 
ever, just look at that ; it speaks for itself, don't it ? ' 

Mr Sunstroke drew a slide out of his pocket, placed 
it in a stereoscope, and handed it to Mr Jones for 
inspection; then stroking his moustaches wiUi great 
vehemence, as if to make up for his neglect of them 



while arranging the instrument, he awaited fta 
verdict of his photographee. 

'It's the most iSelike, at least deathlike itaB§! 

cried Mr Jones, ' I ever But here, Dick, rat 

do ^ou say about it ; your opinion, as that of n 
outmder, snould be better worui having ? Isn't fbi 
a splendid specimen of what art can do tovadi 
strengthening the hands of justice? A score of jma 
i^ter that mortal body has dropped to piecei, fts 
lineaments of the dead man's features will renum h 
you see them now, to be recognised by any * 

' Gotsuchakoff ! ' cried the lad with a shzick of 
terror, casting the instrument upon the cronnd, ad 
cowering into a comer of the wall, as if ne hid beet 
struck. 

Mr Sunstroke bounded forward, but too late to un 
the already shattered sUde ; Lucidora rushed into & 
little chamber for a jiu; of water to throw ow tlK 
faininng bov ; but Mr Joncs seized possession of & 
camera, and bidding everybody keep away from tte 
lad upon their lives, proceeded to take an instsstip 
neons photograph of nim — which afterwards beoni 
one of the most popular of the * ghost-slides,' mds 
the very taking title of The Speetre-anUten^-a Sttdi! 

CHAPTSB xvi. 

IN TaOUBLS. 

Having thus involuntarily commenced his proleoBn 
— having achieved his first stereoscopic success in » 
manner at least as accidental as that by whidi ftfi 
artist in the story painted his doud — namely, 1i^ 
throwing his brush at it — Dick pursued it with SH* 
duity and pleasure. It was not very hard work, mm. 
while it was goins on, and wet days and dark daji 
were holidays m tne photographical calendar ; moR- 
over, it was rather pleasant to recognise himsdf k 
shop- windows, and hear the criticisms passed bjib 
vulgar upon his classical attitudes. Mr Snmrtnke'i 
manner was kind, and his anecdotes amusing munf^ 
whenever, at least, there was anything like a flm 
light. Mr Jones was always chatty and agreeub; 



and Lucidora, although she su£kred occanonally mn 
depression of spirits, imparted that feminine mmnr 
to the general conversation without which the toat^ 
of the matest wits is said to be imperfect. She evh 
dently liked the youth, and her manifestatioii of Obd 
feeling {iroduced at once its effect on Dick, whoia 
heart was indeed a very mirror for reflecting tiie lent 
good- will that happened to be shewn to n; bat Mr 
Jones monoi>olised most of the talk when Mr Sqb- 
stroke was not with them, and studiously confined ifc 
to the airiest themes, so that the lady's diapoiitioB 
and character remained almost as unkne^m to Dkk 
as on the night when he had first seen her. "Ha nenr 
chanced to be left alone with her — Mr Jomee dedaring 
that he was jealous of Narcissus — ^oniil a eertaia 
morning some weeks after his arrival, when the pho- 
tographee had gone out for some twenty minutes to 
his costumier Shadrach, to hire that very hmsar vni* 
form in which we have so often seen him proponng to 
the young lady in the conservatory. 

'Kichii^ Arbour,' exclaimed she the inBtant Hut 
the street-door was shut, and without the least hsa* 
tation or introduction, 'would you like to see year 
mother once again before she dies ? ' 

Dick, who, very much in dishabille, was fittii^ s 
gilded win£ on to a flesh-coloured shoulder-stnp, 
uttered such an inarticulate cry of erief and terror, 
that the woman's eyes, which had looked hard and 
harsh enough when she first spoke, grew tender st 
once. ' Hush,' she went on, ' it is not your fanh, <v 
at least not all your fault They have kept that from 
you which they should have told. Mr Sunstroke does 

not want to lose you, because O Dick, we are 

all of us very selfish, and need much forgiveness t' 

'What of my mother?' whispered the kd, as thon^ 
he heard her not ' What of my dear nurthar ?' 



J 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



iiy 



L 



'She is ill — very 01,' retomfid the other. *I am 
•ore of iAuA by whitt I heard laat ni^ht. Richard waa 
told ao by Mrs Trimming. She ia m Golden Square, 
not ten minutes' run from this, Diok. To-moirow, 
£temity itself may be between yon. I have known 
what it is to miss a moUier's messing ; I pray you 
may never know it, too, and that is why I speak.' 

' I will tell her,' sobbed Dick, as he thrust on his 
shoes and coat — * I wHl tell her how you saved me 
from that loss.' 

'Tell her nothing about me!' exclaimed the ffirl 
with passionate shnllness. 'Forget me and all that 
belonfl9 to me when you leave this room. Let not the 
thought of her be ever mixed up with thought of me, 
unless you would defile your mother's memory !' 

Hurried and panic-s^ck as the boy was throu^ 
the news he had just heard, he ran i^ to the wretched 
woman as she poured forth her bitter words, and lifted 
ap his face that she micht kiss him. But she tamed 
away, and put him aside with her hand, ciyinfl that 
her lips were poison; and again bade him depart 
while there should yet be -time. 

Dick needed no third warning, but fled down the 
stairs and into the street like one distracted. Fast 
as he flew, however, through the wondering crowds, 
and short as was the distance he had to traverse, the 
thoughts of what he had done, and what he had left 
undone, in regard to his beloved mother, passed 
through his conscience-stricken mind again and again. 
He had written to her but three times during the 
fifteen months or so that had elapsed since his £par- 
iure from his uncle's, giving indeed a cheerful view of 
his mode of life, but without specifying what it was, 
or mentioning anv address whereby she mi^t write 
to him, as he well knew she must have lovindy longed 
to do. O^gnizant of her thraldom to Sister^aria, he 
had not ventured to disclose his whereabouts, for fear 
of its beiiu; revealed to Unde Ingnun, while his boyish 
pride revolted at the idea of confessiDg the actual 
nature of the humble pursuits in which he had been 
cngafled. The sense of this unfeeling conduct, unmiti- 
gataa now by any such excuses, possessed him wholly, 
and left no room for any dread of repulse or humi- 
liation that he might meet with at the hands of his 
imcle or Adolphua He only yearned to penitently cast 
himaelf at the feet of her whose lovmg heart was 
breaking — ^perhaps broken — ^for his sake; for his, to 
whom a straoger — and, by her own account, a far from 
exemplary character herself — had had to point out 
the cruelty of Ids silence, and to remind him of that 
parent who osurht never to have been absent from his 
thou^ts. What was drudgery in the china ware- 
hooae, or cold looks and cutting words from those 
who loved him not, that to escape them he should 
have added so heavily to that burden of sorrow which 
he wall knew his mother had to bear ? Had she ever 
shrunk from a personal sacrifice by which the merest 
pleasure was to be conferred upon himself ? * Wicked, 
wicked boy though I have been,' thought he, * hence- 
iorth, at all events, mother, you shall never have 
eauae to complain of the conduct of your son ! ' 

Al&s! how unfortunate is it that these inward 
determinations of Reformation — these little private 
^provement bills which are passed in the Parliament 
of our own hearts — can never be made sufficiently 
public ; and what is of greater importance, be got to 
M publicly belie\'ed ! that we cannot cry, * Let bygones 
be oygrones,' and so become quits for what has passed, 
with all Uie world ! ' My behaviour, up to this time,' 
ao our confession runs, *has been, I miist confess, 
abominable, and nothing less ; but henceforward, O 
my fellow-creatures, I start upon a new tack and 
under an honest flag. I have got out of the Smuggling 
eydone, and mean to be driven for the future 1^ no 
other winds than most straightforward ones. You and 
I, Revenue Cutter, called Society, have been hitherto 
at cro8s-]|>uriK>se8, but let us mutually salute. I feel 
alrsadyy in anticipation, the delights that will flow 



from a due obedience to the Excise laws.' But, alas! 
the Society ranges up with her guns double-shotted ; 
can be got to credit nothing of what is intended for 
the future ; harps solely upon some past ' Tubs,' 
illegally run by us the deuce knows when, and takes 
us mto harbour a condemned vessel, just as we were 
upon the point of commencing a career of universal 
usefulness. 

Poor Dick was as full of pious resolves, as dead to 
any old temptations, when he turned the comer of the 
strieet leading into Golden Square, as any lad of his 
vears could be in all London, when, lo and behold ! a 
hand is laid upon his collar, and a voice, as firm and 
quiet as that of conscience itself, remarks : ' We've got 
you at last, young eentleman; though we Juwe been 
looking after you a pWuy long time ! ' 

Thus spoke that efficient officer Al of the metro- 
politan police force, taking the steadiest gripe of the 
lad's coat-collar, but managing, nevertheless, to convey 
no other idea to casual passengers, but that Dick and 
he were engaged in familiar conversation ; * Now, I 
don't want to throttle you, young sir, nor nothing like 
it, so I do hope you have made up your mind to come 
along without a row.' 

Poor Dick had certainly just been makins up his 
mind to obey all constituted authorities, out the 
practical compliance thus immediately expected of 
him was rather embarrassing too. 

* Why, you must have knowed,' continued Al, 
in answ^ to his astonished look, ' that this here was 
the very place of all places as you should never have 
come to. There's one of us in every street out of that 
square vender with his orders al>out you. There's 
been a detective a-lolling' against your area-gates for 
the last fortnight. Why, lawk a mercy I to see you a- 
coming here in the broad dayliffht, as though there 
was nothing out against you, and no reward for your 
being took up — ^why, it do beat lettuces for greenness ; 
and you a conspirator too ! ' 

'A conspirator!' echoed the wondering lad. *I 
don't know what you mean indeed ; but I do pray that 
you will let me see my mother first, before you take 
me away.' 

*0 lor! mv! I can't stand this,' exclaimed 
the poUceman, taking out a pair of handcufis from his 
pocket ' You must be a slippery chap to talk like 
thatb For a young murderer and a foreign plotter to 
be so precious innocent and devotedly attached to his 
parient, is something too much.' 

' don't, for God^ sake, don't ! ' cried the agonized 
boy. * I have done nothing to deserve to wear those 
things, indeed. I had nothing to do with it — if it's 
about Count Gotsuchakoff— except that I told upon 




which will take us to Poplar quite comfortably, and 
without the necessity of my putting on the bracelets.' 
The policeman beckoned to a passing cab, and the 
two got into it. As soon as they were inside, Al 
relaxed his gripe of the lad, who was weefung bitterly, 
and bade him be of good cheer, for that it was very 
unlikclv that tiiey would do more than lag such a 
young un as he. 

* Might I see the house, please ?' cried Dick eagerly, 
as he perceived this change for the better in his cap- 
tor's teeliugs. ' Might we drive slowly past, that I at 
least may see the house in which she is ?' 

* Mr Arbour's, I supixwe, you mean, my lad. Well, 
I daresay you may. Take the right hand of the 
square for Poplar, cabman. Here it is, then, and there 
isn't much to look at, as I can sec. The family's all 
gone out of town since yesterday, I reckon. It's all 
shut up, with the blinds down, and the rest of it, just 

as though somebody had been and gone and died 

Hullo ! young fellow, keep up, will ^rou ? ' ejaculated 
the policeman, as the boy fell heavily forward, and 
sunk down a li&dess heap upon the floor of the calx 



120 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



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* Well, I thought he was too ^oung to cany it through 
so preciouB cool as he began it. Driye as fast as you 
can, will you, cabby ? for your fare here has been and 
fainted slap bang off.' 



ON PAROLK 

DuRiNO the twenty-three years' war with France, 
which, beginning with the wild anti-monarchical mani- 
festoes of the Committee of Public Safety in 1792, 
came to its apogee at Mont St Jean in the June of 
1815, many prisoners were necessarily made on both 
sides. The goyemments of neither Gaul nor Britain 
erred on the side of OTer-indul^ence ; captivity was not 
an Elysium on either side of the narrow seas ; and as 
philanthropy was an infant science, and sentiment out 
of fashion, the public sympathies in no degree miti- 
gated the harshness of the authorities. Indeed, the 
French prisoners in Britain were very unpopular, and 
were regarded by many worthy folks as the authors of 
all evil amongst us. Coining was a very usual offence 
just then ; the land was flooded with bad shillings and 
base half-crowns, the making or circulating of which 
the law punished with death, or such minor pimish- 
ment as his noajesty should deem fit. His majesty 
seldom did deem any minor punishment fit for such 
flagrant misconduct. The hangman was very busy, 
but somehow the bad money seemed to abound the 
more for the countless convictions and executions 
which blacken the records of the age. Now, this 
fraudulent mint was believed to be a device of the 
French prisoners. They — ^the captured grenadiers 
and artillerists — ^being ingenious in their way, really 
did plait straw-hats, and mats, after the fashion of 
their country, and, to the great detriment of Dun- 
stable, offered the same for sale, thou^ their work- 
manship was remorselessly burned i^enever their 
guardians could find it. Nobody doubted that those 
who could make straw-hats could also make false 
shillings, wherefore the chief 'smashers' were the 
French prisoners — Q. K D. 

Still, although the great camp of Norman Cross 
was famed for its harsh discipline— though contractors 
nibbled away a part of the prisoner^sloaf, and the 
beef may have bieen inferior, and the guard severe, 
and though the hard fortune of those confined on 
board the hulks is a favourite theme for declamation 
in French literature at this hour — still it is a curious 
fact that few of the actual captives spoke evil of their 
captors when restored to freedom. Norman Cross 
was bad enough, but Verdun, where our countrymen 
lay, was worse. The hulks were wretched, but Biche 
was * in the lowest deep, a lower deep.' And those 
places where the prisoners on parole were confined 
were anything but overstrict in their regulations. 
At Lichneld, for instance, were stationed 2000 Gauls 
— officers and privates — ^watched by a military force 
that was partly under canvas, and partly quartered 
in the quaint old town, under the shadow of the 
renowned triple spire of the minster. The PVench- 
men were picked Frenchmen — the good boys, in fact, 
culled from among the foreign pupils in Dame 
Britannia's stem school. Only the tractable and well 
behaved among the men, only the officers who had 
made no attempt at escape, were privil^ed to reside 
on the peaceful shores of the Minster Poo^ among the 
green meadows and leafy hedgerows of Staffordsnire. 
A single offence vrdA enough to procure instant 
expulsion. The captives on parole lost caste as easily 
as a Brahmin docs. A breach of word, an effort to 
flee the country, was rightly thought to deprive the 
prisoner of his claim to be relied on as a man of 
honour, but a mere trespass beyond bounds was 
enou^ to coll down the same punishment. The law 
was Draconic, and the punishment was the transfer- 
ence to the penal settlement of Norman Cross. Was 



a light-fingered conscript caught in purloining a 1m! 
— to Norman Cross with him. Did a crusty veteni 
become disrespectful to the ruling powers ? — ^NoiaHi 
Cross was the word. Did M. le Commandant Choit 
take a promenade into the country beyond tiie jn- 
scribed limits ? — ^Norman Cross was lus doom. 

Still, on the whole, the prisoners must have behsvid 
well, for they conquered much stubborn prejudn^ 
and became quite popular with the towns-people, wUi 
those who dwdt some miles off were still reg^vdng 
them as blasphemous sans culoUea, They were polil% 
these involuntarv guests ; they were gay and li^^«( 
spirit, and usually affable ; and, above all, they WM 
industrious. Many English homes are still deoorairi 
by some tiny toy, some delicate model, in wood, cr 
bone, or ivory, the handiwork of the French prisoBMiL 
It was wonderful to see out of what unproming 
materials they would construct pretty knick-knaeki^ 
fit for the most attractive stall a fancy-ftur coaM 
boast ; and equally remarkable was it to watch thai 
at their toil There they were, the sfu-ightly httk 
aUens, chirruping and singing over their tau: — OM 
man turning a leg-of-mutton Done into an improved 
model of the guillotine, victim, executioners, and all; 
another cutting out a delicate ship in ivory, with emtf 
rope distinct, and the utmost finish of detail ; while i 
third was turning shavings of stained- wood into worit* 
boxes, or making such bukets of variegated straw u 
no native gipsy could equal The poor artists mad« » 
good deal oy their industry, even in that period d 
taxation and scarcity, when the ploughman hadtopi^ 
a shilling for a loai, and there was no gold leH ■ 
England. The prisoners were not content wiA 
carving bones and making work-boxes : they scm^ 
emplojrment as grooms and gardeners, and as mm 
servants were expensive just then in England, owiiif 
to the demands which the immense army, navy, aai 
mihtia made on the nation at large, the petition <k ti» 
captives was well received. 

It is true, that few Britons of that time were nA 
enough to intrust a horse to a Frenchman's tsate 
mercies — grooming was an accomplishment onJy fil 
for King George's native-bom subjects; but itw» 
soon discovered that the foreign candidates for gurdoh 
work were exceedingly clever, and they were thfii«> 
fore gladly allowed to beat their swords into proning- 
knives. It was amusing to see some sturdy uip- 
booted Briton, in the blue coat, fiowcred vest, and 
bunch of seals of the old school, giving orders in 
dumb show to his grinning and gesticulating j^urdencr, 
and to watch the infinite amount of pantomime, the 
shrugs, grimaces, and skips with which the Qaal 
suppHed the place of words. Moreover, there was a 
stnp of neglected land near the town-walls ; and this 
waste plot the prisoners beg|y;ed of the corporation of 
Lichfield, and being permitted to take po ascari oB, 
they forthwith cultivated innumerable htUe patdbct 
of onions, potatoes, lettuces, and other vegetabki^ 
while others fished in all pools and streams withift 
their bounds. Even the reptile world had to con- 
tribute to the cuisine of these forced exiles : tho 
peasants and school-boys swore that the French had 
captured and cooked every frog within two miles of 
the town, and I am sure that no one grudged then 
this national dainty. While the privat^ were hoeing 
turnips or angling for the BcUrachta^ the officers weie 
in many cases received into society by the gentrf <^ 
the place kindly enough. Some of the poorest of 
them gave lessons in their native tongue, or taught 
the youth of Staffordshire the accomplishments of 
fencing and dancing, or how to discourse dulcet soundi 
on the flute or vidin. Yet, poor fellows, they must 
have had many a dull hour while awaiting the cartel 
of exchange that was to send them back to the caf§i 
and theatres of their own land, soon in maxiy cases 
to be deserted for the grim reidities of a Kussiaa 
campaign, and a soldier's hasty grave. 

There were some there, however, and those by no 



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OHAlIBHRSnS JOURNAL. 



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16 least liked by IftigKnh familiei to whom 
B known, to whom no cartel could bring the 

of freedom. There waa, for instance, an old 

mine, still alive^ the Marqois de Pontonon. 
quia was a gay yonng colonel then ; he had 
he army at eiditeen« to save his neck and his 
>m the shaip decrees d the Convention ; had 
jrades at the swardVpomt ; and had sorren- 

town, himself, and lus regiment, to Lord 
on's troons. Napoleon threatened to shoot 
D, if the latter returned from captivifc^, and 
marqois seemed doomed to perpetual mipri- 
He was not the only one with whom the 
iperor was displeased. Sereral officers dared 
ick — they had done their best, and Napoleon 
nore than the best — wanted to erase the 
mpoBsible* from French dictionarifii, and 
tia4» a short shrift and a smart volley should 
5 gndinswhea thev came back to him. They 
d come back to him. Some died in exile, 
uzned to France with the allies ; others, and 
nis in especial, married blue-eyed daughters 
ious Albion, acquired the language in some 
md became half Anglicised. Yet it was 
ad pathetic to see them kissing and crying 
r crosses of the Lesion, the baubles they had 
r blood for under tioe banners of !FVanoe, and 

the harshness of the Emperor. They never 
him with disrespect, not even those whose 
s easily provoked an^ had blighted. As 
ommon soldiers, they idolised him. Most of 
L some little portrait or bust of the Man of 
which they earned about like a fetich, and 
ad gazed upon for hours. Of a different 
re we views of Britons r^zarding the sallow, 
ing and king-breaking Corsican. *Boney* 
ogre of our nurseries; little children were 
d into good-behaviour by the threat that 
onld be sent for to eat tiiem — Boney, that 
ston, with sabre and plumed beaver, and 
B^rin, who scowled on all honest folks from 
iellcas' windows, and who, as being the very 
pictorial Famine, was deemed an appropriate 
:or the traditionally lean and hungry French, 
a — for to use the word Napoleon was then 

a petty treason to good King George on the 
na his plump guert at Hartwell — was the 
ol the nation to an extent hardly to be 
now-a-dim The French prisoners derived 
Brest in British eyes from their connection 
I Xncamation of EviL Thev caught, as it 
ne sparkles of the infernal lustro of this 
B war-dragon, with baleful breath, and ada- 
icales, and fiery jaws ever gaping to swallow 
t a mouthfuL Most of them had seen him, 
1 spoken with him— with him. Napoleon 
e, whose words made monarchs shake in 
il shoes, and whose audacitv kept all Britain 
This vieille mougUiche could repeat what the 
had said to him when he received the crotx ; 
r syllables, and that scrap of ribbon, were 
mpensation for toil, and wounds, and cap- 
liis old soldier could boast of a kind word ; 
ig conscript, while lying wounded after his 
ie, had been consoled by a smile, or a *Pauvre 
om the Man of Destiny ; and their comrades 
1 a certain meed of honour, because kis glance 
ned to rest on them. We English folks 
md wondered, and admired this devotion of 
lers to their idol, and envied a little, perhaps, 
ire of their veneration for the conqueror. 
, we had no idol of our own, in particular, 
bhe war began, and for some years after, our 
I loyalty, love, and homage had been all for 
orge our king ; but the war had gone on ill 
iringly, except at sea, where no hostile flag 
bed, and where our fleets were supreme, 
a dear, trade slack, and grumbling plentiful. 



Great George our kinp^ was old, and blind of mind 
and body, and his subjects had lost si^t of him for 
ever : the most fervid loyalty could hardly cany its 
aspirations to that padded room at Windsor. Lord 
Wellington, not yet a hero, was painfully struggling 
in Portugal agamst the furious tide of the FrencE 
attack; the funds were fabulously low; and riots 
seemed indigenous to the manufacturing districts. 
Presently, there came a change. The mail-coaches 
thundered into the towns, laurelled like so many 
bowers upon wheels, nay, the very wheels were 
twined with dusty evergreens; bays were twisted 
round the heads of the smoking horses, wreathed 
into their harness, and blended with their tails. 
High on the giddy roof, where even the luggage of 
the passengers was bedecked with laurds like a 
trophy, stood the guard in his official red coat, 
reading out to the oreathless populace the Gazette 
which announced some Peninsular victory. How the 
people shouted, and the bells rang triple bob-majors, 
and the volunteers fired salutes, and the sternest 
schoolmasters gave half-hdidays to their excited 
charge! Woe to the windows that should be dark 
and candleless that night, when an illumination 
was decreed in honour of Badaioe, or Salamanca, or 
red Vittoria ! Wonderful was the stir and huzzaing, 
amazing the jov, and beer-drinking, bell-ringing, 
smashing ci winaow-glass, and consuming of taflow- 
dips, as the news of each new triumph came on the 
notes of Fame*s blatant trumpet — ^the mail-coach 
horn! 

It must have been with curious sensations that the 
French |irisoners, chipping at their ivory frigates, 
or traimng their scarlet-runners, heard all these 
rejoicings. I wonder how they felt when the earliest 
inteUijo^ence was communicated to them respecting 
the disasters of their compatriots, so many cannon 
taken, so many stands of colours, captives, treasure 
— such and such a list of killed and wounded — all 
the meagre items which the dx^ little newspapers of 
the day dribbled out to the excited public, and which 
sound so mean and unsatisfactory when compared 
with the florid eloquence of Our Own Correspondent, 
now-a-days. Huzza for my Lord Wellington! the 
little boys used to shout, with the thoughtlessness of 
their time of life, when they saw the good-natured 
grinning Gauls : * What do yon think of Boney now, 
mounseer?* The Frenchmen took the inquirv well 
enough, with a shrug and a grimace, and pornaps a 
pinch of snufE^ if they had any snuff *Think of 
Boney, indeed!' They thought the same of him as 
ever — ^that he was invincible, fate-compelling, king of 
men. They were not in the least angry with that 
M. Vilainton of ours for some minor successes in 
Spain and Portugal over the French arms ; that was 
but the fortune of war : the Emperor would put that 
little matter to rights when he should come back 
from his Moscow campaign, dragging with him the 
Czar in chains, and crowned with C^ossack victories. 

I am afraid that some honest tax-payers in Stafford- 
shire were not a little disgusted tnat the prisoners 
should have made so light of the reverses of France 
in the field. Fortresses fell— battles were won — 
Iberian provinces regained from the gripe of the 

riler — Joseph the Satrap, kin^ of Spain, and brother 
'Boney,' was flying from his usmrped realm, and 
his very plate and plunder were overhauled by 
Wellington's dragoons; but the Gallic guests at 
Lichfield kept up their spirits joyously, and never 
doubted the luck of the Emperor for an instant. 
But when news came of the terrible retreat from 
Moscow, with Frost and Kutusoff pressing on the 
heels of the Grand Army, and how whole brigades 
of world-renowned vetenms died daily by cold and 
hunger, then a gloomy change came over the prisoners 
too : tiiey grew morose and silent ; their everlasting 
camp-souj^ camp-stories, were hushed ; their, gay, 
gasconading, hopeful spirit was under a cloud at last 



12fi 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



Emperor-wonhip was the main religion of most of 
these poor fellows, and they beheld the darkness of 
misfortune that was fast envelomng their glittering 
idol, in much the same mood with which the 
Chinaman watches an eclipse of the sun. A deep 
depression succe^ed to tne familiar merriment of 
the prisoners ; they hung their heads, and ceased to 
twirl their moustaches mto that oonqoerinjg, defiant 
twist which the French miUtaire most afiScts. No 
more fiddling and dancing; their flutes blew the 
dolef ulest of dirges ; their manners grew brusque 
and surly, and amongst themselves they often 
quarrellecl desperately. 

It was at this time that young De Mousseuz, a 
Bonapartist pur sangy who had been an ai^e-de-camp 
on Napoleon's personal staff, who was only twenty- 
five, and already a colonel, had an altercation with 
Count Louis de Fresnes, a cajYtain of chasseurs, who 
came of an old Legitimist stock, and was supposed to 
be but a time-serving partisan of the bellicose Corsican. 
At anyrate, two younjg officers of an English cavalry 
regiment lending their kind assistance, and getting 
a month's arrest for so doing, a duel was fought with 
the small-sword, and the count was run through at 
the second pass. The venerable cathedral city was 
scandalised by the arrival of a yellow post-chaise, 
through one of the windows of which protruded the 
booted feet of the dead duellist, whose head was 
supported in the arms of the surgeon. A great 
turmoil resulted from this luckless afi&ur, not that 
duels were scarce in that hot-blooded epoch, but that 
those rencounters had rarely a fatal termination. 
De Mousseux was taken into custody by the town- 
sergeants, of course, and there was talk of committing 
him to take his trial at the assizes; but some one 
suggested that to bans an alien prisoner for the 
murder of another woula be a breach of international 
law, and the matter dropped. However, Qeneral Sir 
George Powderpuff was very angry with the gallant 
diagoons who had seconded uie Frenchmen; he 
ordered them into dose arrest, and menaced courts- 
martial, and it was well for the delinquents that the 
rcuJbe came, and the regiment was ordered to the 
Peninsula. The iU-humour of the French was but 
transitory ; a Gaul has a variable temper in general, 
and before lon^ the men were heard fiddling and 
flinging in their quarters, and the officers were 
dancing and drinking tea, and murdering the king^s 
English, at the houses of their British friends. 

^chfield, like most of our old cathedral cities of 
minor importance, is but a dull and small place, where 
the grass grows r^reshin^ly between the cobble-stones 
of the juivement, and l£e dogs bask on the sunny 
flags, in perfect confidence that no very bustling 
tnuSc will disturb the even tenor of their slumbers. 
But when the French prisoners were there, it was 
not as it now is. Railways have done for Lichfield 
what civilisation has done for Glencoe, according to 
Macaula^ — ^that is, they have reduced it to a stagnant 
lifeless silence that might render it a respectable rival 
to Palmyra. If my poor old friend Pontorson were 
to cross the Channel again, and take a 'ticket for 
Lichfield, at the Euston Square terminus, he would 
hardly recognise the old town where he spent so many 
of his best years. He would find the three tall spires 
of the graceful cathedral, at the door of which Lord 
Brooke was slain in the Civil War, and the dark 
Minster Pool, and some of the ancient red brick 
houses, with their venerable trees and clusterineiyy ; 
but it would be but a husk without a kernel When 
Pontorson dwelt there on juirole, there was bustle and 
life, rattling mails bringing news, carriages whirling 
through clouds of dust on the obsolete road, bfdls, 
dinners, races, and reviews. Lichfield is not the 
only English Tadmor which was gay and noisy in 
the old war-time, when the country, though it 
lacked bread, flowed with wine, when the nation, 
fighting hard, and armed against invasion, yet fomid 



time for more hearty genial mirth and 
than more pro^ierous periods have ever knowa 
At that day, ever^ second man in England was ii 
a red coat, for if a gentleman was not in the 
army, the militia, or the yeomanry, he was oertain 
to be a volunteco*. And what volunteers! Whsfc 
a contrast to the gray tunic-wearing, sharp-sboot* 
ing heroes of 1860, were those t^tly stocked, 
ti^tly gaitered, red-coated defenders of 1810, spotka 
as to pipe-clay, powdered till their hair, what witk 
flour ana pamatom, was as the driven snow, and ]f% 
tailed as Benbow himself! Yet their stout hniti 
were the same, under those strangling crossbelts, sflit 
is to be hoped that British hearts will ever be ; andX 
their aueues were sometimes, as malicious waa 
asserteo, so ^dghtly screwed that the wearers coqU 
not shut their eyes, the more praise was due to 
their patriotism. There were three battalions d 
such volunteers in the camp on Cannock Chase, t 
few miles from Lichfield, along with yeomanry aad 
volunteer-horse, and militia and regulars. Alto- 
gether, there must have been eighteen or "»™»<»— 
thousand men, all in red and Mue, all powdered, 
all pigtailed, all pipe-clayed to perfection, and all 
under canvas, in a camp perhaps a trifle less ordedy 
than Aldershott or Shomdiffe, but very pictureaqae 
to look upon, and as my as a fair in the plesssnt 
days of summer. At uie first blush' of the thiqg, 
it appeared as if these nineteen thousand wanidr 
Britons were in arms to watch over the two thousaiBd 
of their vanquished enemies in Lichfield ; but thii 
was a mistaken view of the spirit of the age. Eng* 
land bristled with such camps : north and soou, 
east and west, out of a population scarcely half the 
present muster-roll, there had sprouted from the &w 
soil of our island-home such a growth of aimed met 
as no other European country has ever produced. Ai 
for Cannock Chase, where the Staffordshire camp wis 
formed, it was a wild and wide tract of purple moor 
and felled forest, just fitted for military oociqiatifln, 
and useless for agriculture. In this actual year of 
grace, a royal commission has fixed on it as the best 
site for a new national arsenal, more out of reach tbia 
Portsmouth and Woolwich. In the old war, tiie brown 
heaths and tangled copses rang incessantly to the 
music of the shml fife and rattling drum, as by squadi 
and companies, and regiments and brigades, the re- 
cruits learned the trade of arms, prior to xeinfoiciig 
Lord Wellington's struggling army. 

That couruy veteran, bir George Powderpufi^ was in 
command. It was a delightful illustration of the popu- 
lar theory, which demands the light man in the ri^ 
place. General Sir George was in the right |daee ; a 
high-born, well-mannered gentleman, a martmet, nd 
yet a courtier. There were those who avoudied his 
descent from the identical nobleman who angered pcao- 
tical Hotspur, and he certainly was familiar wiu no 
powder but such as still contributes L.3, 13s. 6d. to the 
assessed taxes. But this dainty warrior was great at 
drill, and admirable at recruiting Bougher men, 
such as Hill and Picton, might do me coarse fi^^itiBg 
in Spain ; it was the province of Sir Greorge to fmiali 
the raw material of heroism. And the work was one 
requiring tact, invention, and a perseverance that no 
obstacles could exhaust The voluntaiy system 
seemed worn out; Britain was drained of blood; 
bounties were high, but every village could tell of its 
score of stout lads who had marched gleefully off to 
leave their bones at Walcheren, in Egypt, anywhere 
and everywhere, and the survivors were shy of the 
fatal shilling. Often did poor Powderpuff own that 
things were better mana^id in France, and that a 
conscription made matters remarkably comfortable. 
There was a compulsory bidlot in F^ngUi^^ ; lynt it 
was only for mihtia purposes. A thousand yokek 
mi^ht crowd into Lichfield Market or Tamworth 
Fair, and Sir C^eorge could not lay his itching fingetf 
on one of them. But Sir George was luckjr in Ab 



CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 



183 



of Sergeant Kite. He is dead now, poor 
feOoir, and hiB suoceaori are degenerate dwarfis ; bat 
Kite of the old war was no common man. He was 
an orator, a poet, a hon vivatU, and a lover of his 
■peciea. It was grand to behold him, erect, portly, 
flaunting in ga^ nbbons, and the brightest of scarlet 
coatees, jiaradin^ the street! of a town, his black 
hawk's eye twimding as he measured every man's 
inches. But it was ^nmder to listen to lus wonderful 
orations, where patriotism, plunder, finest climate in 
the world, promotion, ros^ wine, black-eyed seAoritas, 
a toast, a sonc, a sentiment, and a coach-and-six, 
were all marveuously mixed and min j^ed in a sort of 
intoxicating Hecate's broth that few could rcsiBt. He 
was an enthusiast, Sergeant Kite, and no doubt 
believed implicitly in the very bi^g^^est of the lies that 
fell from his glib lips : he accredited himself actually 
to have shared in the bloody fights, hairbreadth 
'scapes, carouses, triumphs, ana sieces, of which he 
discoursed — ho who had never been beyond Chatham 
on the one hand, or Cork on the other. Then, his 
tact — the artful mode in which he would insinuate 
himself into the confidence of the wariest Chawbacon 
— his frankness, his good songs, his mellow voice, that 
hospitality of his, tnat always beram with a pint of 
ale, and ended with the words, * You swear, for an 
unhmited number of years, in peace and war, and so 
forth ' — all this was truly artistic, and Sergeant Kite 
was justly an esteemed favourite of General Sir 
George Powderj)u£r. There were other hunters after 
men who did their spiriting less gently than our 
friend the sergeant. 

The navy has always been renowned for a more 
frank and bluff method of proceeding than the 
Idndred service. While Kite was cajoling poor Hodge 
in the tap of the King's Arms, other still more pressing 
gentlemen, who would take no denial, and had no 
more respect for Magna Charta than for the Shasters 
of Zerdusht, were besetting Hodge's brother on the 
highway. Hodge's brother muit come to sea with 
them — ^he really mtMf, and the^ would take no 
denial lliough Lichfield was an inland place, it was 
generally the temporary abode of a press-gang. Every 
evening, at dusk, out they slipped, the stout blue- 
jackets in their gregos and tarpaulin hats, with cut- 
lass and cudgel, imd the man-hunt commenced. They 
lurked in the lanes near public-houses, watchini; for 
the tipsy revellers ; they put ropes across the high- 
roads, and ensnared the passers-by. Every loose 
lounger felt a hard hand upon his collar. * Go, carry 
Sir John Falstaff to the fleet!* was the word with 
them ; and it was in vain that the belated journey- 
man remonstrated, for it appeared that though the 
constitution forbade taking soldiers by force, to press 
sailors was lawful, perhaps on account of the benefi- 
cial effects of sea-air. There were gentlemen who 
approved the system highly : they gave many a hint, 
uid sot rid of many a poacher and pilferer by the 
frienmy importunity of tne boatswain and his crew. 
Tramps and incorrigible idlers were thought fair 
game ; apprentices were protected by law, also 
b n i gh er m and yeomen ; and it never occurred to the 
most ambitious lieutenant to carry off the young 
squires to man the fleets of Collingwood or Jervis. 
A footman of the bishop's was trepanned on one 
ooeasion, and remained trembling oil night in the 
crimping-house, but poor Jeamcs was rescued in the 
morning by his right reverend employer. 

While tnese thiugs went on, while a man was a com- 
modity so much in request, it is natural that Sergeant 
Kite should have cast a sheep's eye, once and again, 
at the sturdy Gallic prisoners. Most of them wen' 
hapeless as recruits, for two reasons — first, they were 
French to the backi)one; and secondly, thev were not 
tall enouf^ to fight for Kinc George, though they had 
Btatore enough to enable them to fight aeainst him. 
But there were others, well up to the standard, strap- 
ping Bhinelanders, whose German sympathies were 



not so actively Bonapartist To catch these honest 
Deutschers was one of Kite's most delicate tasks ; 
they loved beer, they loved Fatherland, they were 
not averse to Greorge of Hanover and Britain, and so 
far all was welL But, on the other hand, their French 
companions in captivity were quick-tempered and 
resentful, and might brain them for listening to the 
blandishments of the syren Kite, while Napoleon's 
marshals would make short work of them, should 
they again liavo the luck to be taken prisoners. To 
convert a Westphalion conscript of Boney into a full 
private in the King's Gorman Legion was no ordinary 
feat, and Kite prided himself on it in proportion to 
its difficulty. In the year 1813, the races at Lich- 
field promised to be unusually attractive. There 
wen; garrison-cujis, garrison-stokes, plates, a whole 
assortment of silver to be run for; and the county 
was liberal with, its prizes. The prisoners, among 
others, were looking forwonl to the nm of seeing their 
captors risk their necks, in John Bull fashion, when 
an untoward event occum*d. General Houbigant, 
brother to the Marshal Houbigant, Duke of Transyl- 
vania, Grand Cross of evcr^' order Nai)olcon's hands 
could bestow, broke his parole in a very shabby 
manner, rather befitting his parent the suttlcr than 
his brother the duke ; aud gomg off with post-horses 
to the coast, escaped to France. Old Sir George 
Powdorpuff was justly ancry with the runaway, but 
he was unjustly angry with the others. He confined 
them strictly to their prison limits; all leave and 
licence were withdrawn ; and the poor Gauls lost the 
gay spectacle of the race for Houbi^nt's fault. But 
there was one young officer, a captam in the Imperial 
Guard, who was so anxious to see his conquerors, 
Messieurs Plumpuddinc, gallop in jackets of silk, to 
see which coula ao &e quickest (races were not 
ingraft<!d on French customs as yet), that he resolved 
to venture. A scbc»ol-boy, a lad of twelve, who much 
patronised the tall captain, volunteered to escort 
him, and up went the ill-assorted pair to the breezy 
common, wnere the white tents were pitched, and the 
gaudy flags flying, and the midtitude ouzzing eagerly, 
as the smooth-skinned horses were paraded pai% the 
stand. The Frcnclmian was in ecstacy witn idl he 
heard and saw ; he clapped his